


At Face Value

by ClaudiaRain



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family, Friendship, Humor, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-05-25 21:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 70,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14985854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaudiaRain/pseuds/ClaudiaRain
Summary: Neil and Shaun come to an agreement: they'll allow everyone to believe they're in a relationship with each other, for a variety of reasons, all of which will make their respective lives easier. Of course, they never expect toactuallyfall in love. (…And that's assuming they weren't already there to begin with.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this idea for a one-shot, but anyone who knows me is well-aware that I am pretty much incapable of those. (It's a wonder I managed two for my Rooms series, honestly.) I began writing this a few days ago and it'll probably be around 4-5 chapters. Much love to crazygirlne for providing the title of this, exactly one minute after I asked for a suggestion. (Yes, she is _amazing_.) I hope everyone who has liked my other TGD stories enjoys this one, as well!

The course of Neil’s life changes around half past 3 on an otherwise unremarkable Thursday afternoon.

(In hindsight, he could admit that things had slowly been changing before then, but that one day in early September was the ultimate catalyst.)

It’s the long stretch of day between lunch and dinner, and it’s usually around this time that Neil would stop at his office for a quick snack. He’s tired today, though, more than usual, so he veers off to the nearest breakroom for some coffee. Stepping inside, he notices two nurses chatting quietly over their own break, near the back of the room. Lim’s there as well, and he catches her eye – no words need to be exchanged, she simply nods to the counter over her own mug, indicating (God bless her) that she’s just made a fresh pot.

Neil goes about fixing his coffee, deciding to leave it a bit on the stronger side; he already feels more awake from the scent alone.

He lets it cool a little before taking a sip and sighing, “I think I love you.”

“Why Neil,” Audrey’s smirking at him, “I had no idea.”

“I was talking to the coffee,” he says, around a smile. Upon hearing her grumble something he’s pretty sure is unflattering, he relents with, “Alright. _Maybe_ you, too.” She doesn’t answer him, but seems appeased enough.

Since he doesn’t have anywhere to be right this minute, he lingers as he drinks it and starts a running list in his head of all the things he needs to get done after he’s finished with his impromptu break.

The door opens again and Shaun walks in, pausing briefly to survey the room as Neil holds up his coffee in lieu of a verbal greeting.

“Good afternoon,” Shaun says politely, mostly as a general ‘hello’ to everyone in the room. Lim tips her cup slightly in silent response and the nurses vaguely wave in his direction as Shaun grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Where have you been all day?” Neil asks. He’d seen much less of Shaun than usual today, and had noted his absence since that morning, meaning to ask him about it.

“I have been here,” Shaun answers (which is really no answer at all).

“‘Here’, huh?” Neil says wryly. “That’s very specific.”

“Did you miss me?” Shaun asks, with a growing smile.

“No, it was rather refreshing,” Neil says lightly, as he smiles in return. (He can say things like that now and Shaun knows he’s kidding.) “I didn’t have to listen to you ramble on about whatever topic you’ve chosen for the day.” He glances into his mug. “Like the history of coffee, for example.”

“You like when I ramble,” Shaun insists, as he uncaps his water and takes a sip.

“I do not!” Neil makes sure his protests are intentionally over the top. “And how dare you suggest such a thing?”

“I’d like to know the history of coffee,” Lim offers.

“Traitor,” Neil mildly accuses. “I take back what I said earlier: I no longer love you.”

“Somehow, I’ll live.” Her tone is so dry that it rivals Neil’s even on his most sarcastic days.

“Neil would like to know the history of coffee, as well,” Shaun informs her, _as if Neil’s not even in the room_.

Neil rolls his eyes, but it’s unmistakably fond. He also doesn’t argue with Shaun, because he’s right. Of course he’s right. Neil likes hearing whatever stories Shaun chooses to tell, and he’s yet to bring up a topic that Neil finds boring. (And sometimes he wonders if maybe it’s not so much the stories themselves that he likes, but more the person who’s telling them.)

In the year since Shaun’s started working at their hospital, they’ve become friends. _Actual_ friends. And that still kind of surprises Neil when he thinks about it. He’d certainly never have expected it based on the way they’d clashed when they first met. But after a sincere apology from Neil, their dynamic had shifted, to the point that Neil might even describe Shaun as one of his _closest_ friends.

He hadn’t tried to make it happen, either, it just did. He’s not entirely sure how, or why, but it _did_. He’d never become friends with one of his residents before, not the way he is with Shaun – sure, he’s friendly with all of them, but he’s always kept a clear line between himself and his subordinates. It makes things a lot easier that way. But with Shaun… _there had never been a line_. Forget enforcing it, Neil had been incapable of _setting_ one. He just _likes_ Shaun too much and the last thing he wants to do is limit their interactions in any kind of way.

While he’s lost in thought, Audrey and Shaun begin discussing the last fundraising gala – more specifically, how much they both _hated_ it. Audrey because she’d been coming off a last-second forced double shift and had been exhausted, Shaun because he’s not a fan of events like that, in general. Too much noise, too many people, being pulled in a half-dozen different directions at once – Neil can definitely sympathize because he dislikes that last part, too, and if _he_ doesn’t like it (when he’s much better equipped at dealing with social interactions) then he can only imagine Shaun’s constant level of discomfort during the events that are a mandatory part of their job.

As time has gone on and Shaun’s attended more things – banquets and fundraisers and conferences – he’s steadily become more well-known in their field. That viral airport video of him had kicked it off (and people _still_ ask him about that, quite often), but he’s done plenty since then to further his reputation, including publishing a few papers. Everyone’s noticed his rise in popularity, and none more than Marcus, who has slowly been pushing Shaun front and center at more events. (Technically there’s an entire committee whose sole job is to bring in more money to their hospital, but Marcus now oversees it, in what Neil is 98% certain is an effort to impress the board and set himself up as de facto next in line to succeed Aaron as hospital president when the older man finally retires.)

In any event, people _love_ Shaun – he not only elevates the reputation of their hospital, but he easily brings in donors. Which means Marcus loves him, in turn (and on most days, Neil thinks Shaun is their boss’s favorite person on the entire staff).

At first, Neil had serious reservations about the increasing obligations Marcus put upon Shaun (who is still only a second-year resident). He’d even been planning to speak to him about it, until he had a heart-to-heart with Shaun, who’d told him that even though he’s not fully comfortable with the social aspect of any of their events, he can do it. He _wants_ to do it. (Even if, at times, he outright hates being there.) Their hospital gets government funding and grants, but they could _always_ use more money. Private donations go a long way towards allowing them to upgrade equipment, fund research, and otherwise keep pace in a medical field that advances by the literal day.

Shaun had summed it up quite simply, in a way that put Neil’s concerns to rest: _More money means less people die._ And _that_ was the entire reason Shaun had become a surgeon in the first place. (So of course Shaun would never refuse anything Marcus asks him to do, not when he knows how much of a difference he’s making.)

After their talk, Neil had let it go; Shaun can take on as much as he wants – far be it from Neil to ever try and stop him. (And the more events Shaun attends, the better he gets at interacting with others, which is only going to help him down the road.) Still, though, Neil knows that despite the outward demeanor Shaun’s (usually) successful at putting on, that’s never the way he truly feels. Shaun’s anxiety and unease is _always_ present at those kinds of events. Neil tries to do what he can to help him, but he’s not always successful. After all, Neil’s fairly popular at those things himself, and the two of them are constantly being separated, with Marcus sending them in opposite directions, more often than not. (And Neil can’t exactly refuse. What would he even say? _No, thanks, I’m not leaving Murphy’s side, because…well, I have no reason other than I don’t want to._ Yeah, that wouldn’t seem odd, at all, and it’d go over real well with Marcus.)

Neil shakes himself out of his thoughts in time to register that Shaun and Audrey are wrapping up their conversation; Shaun moves to leave, but before he can, someone appears in the open doorway of the breakroom. Neil somewhat recognizes him, but not enough to know his name for certain – Elton? Eldredge? He’d recently transferred from another hospital and he’s not in their department. He looks to be a few years older than Shaun, but Neil has no actual clue. He’s definitely closer in age to Shaun than Neil is, though.

“Shaun!” the newcomer exclaims, surprising Neil that the two of them know each other. “I’ve been looking around for you all day.”

“Dr. Ellis,” Shaun says courteously, but there’s something off about his tone that leaves Neil wondering why Shaun doesn’t like him. (Because he doesn’t, and it’s obvious – maybe not to anyone else in the room, but it is to Neil.) Then Shaun does something rather curious: he turns and wanders over to the counter where Neil’s been standing since he entered the room. The move seems aimless, like it was done without thought, but Neil knows better, because Shaun comes to a stop much closer to him than he normally otherwise would. And maybe he’s less cautious about maintaining personal space with Neil and his other friends than he is with strangers, but it’s still too close for Shaun’s normal level of comfort – if either of them moved a few inches over, they’d be touching.

Ellis has been staring at Shaun, but then his eyes move over to Neil, before glancing around the room, as if noticing for the first time that there are other people present. “Shaun, can I talk to you alone?”

“No,” Shaun answers, without preamble.

Neil almost laughs, because it’s such a _Shaun Murphy_ answer – he’s gotten much better at diplomacy the longer he’s worked at Saint Bonaventure, but when it’s not necessary for his job, Shaun doesn’t bother pretending to like people he doesn’t like.

“Please?” Ellis asks, and Neil instantly finds him grating. (Maybe that’s why Shaun doesn’t like him.)

“No,” Shaun firmly repeats. Neil shifts so he can lean further back against the counter, but Shaun must interpret it as a sign he’s about to move away, because he actually reaches out and takes hold of his wrist.

Neil glances down, and yes, that’s definitely Shaun’s hand wrapped around his arm. Shaun has touched him before; it’s not often, but it happens occasionally. He’s never done this, though, taken hold of him like he’s afraid Neil’s going to leave.

He’s busy wondering exactly what’s going on when Shaun inadvertently supplies the answer for him.

“I have told you,” Shaun says slowly, directing that at Ellis, “that I have no interest in dating you.”

Ellis either doesn’t know how to read a room, or he’s _just that oblivious_ , because he flashes a charming smile at Shaun and says, “Bet I could change your mind.”

Shaun tightens his grip on Neil’s wrist and Neil unconsciously leans closer to him, even as his entire focus narrows on Ellis, still standing in the doorway of the breakroom.

“You have been trying to change my mind since we met,” Shaun says sharply. “You are not going to be successful.”

Ellis shrugs, like that answer doesn’t bother him, but as he glances around the room, it’s clear that he’s embarrassed by the flat out rejection. “Hey,” he tries to claim, as he grabs a soda from the fridge, “I was just making an effort at being friendly. Getting to know people here better.”

Neil thinks about saying something, is even debating the best tactic to take, but Shaun’s next statement kills any plan he’d had of speaking up.

“I am in a relationship,” Shaun declares.

“What?” Ellis says, like he must have misheard that. (And his reaction of confusion is about the same as Neil’s – except Neil wants to demand who Shaun’s supposedly in a relationship with and how come he’s never so much as _mentioned_ it.)

“I am in a relationship,” Shaun repeats, finally letting go of Neil’s wrist, but it’s only so he can slide his hand down and lace his fingers through Neil’s. Neil’s too stunned to ask what he’s doing, or even to pull away for that matter. (And it’s a damn good thing he hadn’t taken a sip of his coffee, either, because he would have choked on it at Shaun’s next words.) “With Dr. Melendez.”

The silence that falls after that is deafening. Audrey isn’t moving, is simply staring at them with obvious fascination. The nurses have leaned forward in their seats. Ellis is gaping at them in a display of true shock, and Neil – Neil doesn’t think he can move, doesn’t even think he could speak, right then. (Which is probably a good thing, because he has no idea what he’d even say, in that moment.)

Shaun had spoken with such absolute certainty that _Neil_ almost believes him. Had Shaun been confused, or mistaken, about the nature of their friendship? Or has Neil simply lost it, and they _have_ been together, but he’s suffering from some sort of amnesia?

But no, it doesn’t take long for him to catch up and put everything together. He can feel the hold Shaun has on his hand, he can _feel_ the silent plea in it: to play along, to not pull away, to not counter his statement and reveal that, for whatever reason, Shaun had decided to compose such a lie.

Because if Shaun Murphy, of all people, had felt compelled to reach out to Neil in this way, and to create an entire relationship in the span of a few seconds, then he _needs_ this.

And Neil Melendez has always found it near-impossible to deny Shaun of anything.

“You. And – and Melendez.” Ellis is borderline sputtering, gesturing between them with his can of soda. “You’re in a relationship.” He clearly doesn’t believe it, though he falters when he belatedly notices that they’re holding hands. “ _You two_.”

Shaun incrementally tightens his grip on Neil’s hand, and they’re standing close enough that Neil can hear him breathing faster; Neil thinks his resident might be panicking – whether at fear of Neil contradicting him, or in growing horror and realization at what he’d impulsively done. (Maybe it’s both.) And it’s surely not a great idea to confirm that they’re together when they aren’t, but when has Neil ever let that stop him from doing _anything_?

He lightly returns the pressure on Shaun’s hand in reassurance and looks directly at Ellis. “We are together.” He knows he made the right choice when all the tension leaves Shaun (who actually leans against him a little in relief).

“You are,” Ellis numbly echoes, probably for lack of anything else to say. Then he frowns, like he’s trying to figure something out. “Aren’t you his boss? Is that even allowed?”

 _No, it’s probably not._ (Nor does Neil care.) He drops his tone to somewhere between disdainful and murderous. “Is that some kind of threat?”

Ellis takes an actual step backwards. “What? No, of course not!”

“I’ll let it go because you’re fairly new here, but if I say something’s allowed, then it’s allowed.” It’s not even a bluff – Neil’s not exactly worried, here. He pretty much does things the way he wants to, and so long as he keeps excelling at his job, Marcus cuts him a lot of slack. As for Shaun, well, he could probably ask for _anything_ and get it, based on how much Marcus and the board love him. (Not that Shaun’s ever taken advantage of that, but he definitely could.)

“I… I had no idea.”

“And why are you still here?” Neil’s tone is deceptively mild, but the question warns of clear and lasting misery in the other man’s future if he doesn’t get the hell out.

“I was just leaving,” Ellis quickly assures, holding his hands up and nearly dropping his soda in the process. He’s already backing towards the door, which shows he does have _some_ degree of intelligence. “Sorry Shaun. Dr. Melendez. If I’d known, I never would have… Sorry. Again.”

He’s out the door in the next second and Neil looks around the room with a silent order so obvious that it sends the nurses scattering.

Audrey rises as well, though more slowly – she’s trying _really_ hard not to laugh, and her next statement reveals why. “If Neil Melendez says something’s allowed, then it’s allowed. You never cease to entertain me.”

“Audrey.” He fails to stifle a sigh as he nods towards the door. “Please.”

She graces them both with a warm smile (though it’s probably more for Shaun than him) and Neil expects her to let on that she’s aware of what Shaun just did. Instead, she surprises him by saying, “You could have been more open about it. You know we all would have been supportive.” As she leaves, she pulls the door shut behind her in a thoughtful move to give them privacy.

Neil replays her words: _They should have been more open about it? The others would have been supportive?_ Apparently, she’d been under the impression that he and Shaun were together already, which is odd in and of itself, but Neil has other things to focus on right now. More specifically, _one_ very important thing:

Shaun Murphy. Who isn’t speaking. And hasn’t moved. (In fact, Neil’s a little startled to realize they’re still holding hands even though they’re the only two people in the room and there’s no one to try and convince anymore.)

Neil sips his coffee before settling on what to say. “Next time we start a relationship, Murphy, remember to tell me about it, would you?”

Shaun laughs a little, and then risks a glance at him, which reminds Neil he hadn’t looked at him once when Ellis was in the room. (Which _also_ reminds Neil how much he hates it when Shaun won’t look at him.)

“I am sorry,” Shaun says quietly, as he stares at their clasped hands, and there’s so much guilt in his voice that it pains Neil to hear it. Shaun seems to shake himself out of whatever state he’s in and carefully lets go of Neil before taking a step away from him. “What I did was inappropriate. I should not have…used you to…”

“Get him to leave you alone?” Neil fills in.

“Yes,” Shaun admits.

“Hey.” Neil turns to face Shaun directly. “You can use me for things like that whenever you want, okay? I don’t mind.” He waits for Shaun to nod, then asks, “What exactly has Ellis been doing?”

“He has asked me out several times. Trying various ways to convince me. I considered reporting him, but he seems genuinely friendly. He has never said anything inappropriate. He has never touched me. Nothing he’s done has crossed any kind of line.”

“He made you uncomfortable,” Neil says. “That’s crossing a line. Telling him ‘no’ once should have been sufficient.”

Shaun shrugs, seeming lost. “It is difficult to determine. And we both know…”

“What?”

Shaun looks away. “I am not comfortable with many things that most people are comfortable with. Things that are _not_ harassment. If I reported everyone who ever made me uncomfortable, I would…report everyone. So…” He sighs, then repeats, “It is difficult to determine.”

Neil had never really thought about that before. It must be extremely hard for Shaun to figure out what crosses a line if _so much_ crosses his own personal lines – things that others would find innocuous, harmless, or fail to register. Even things that others would interpret as supportive or caring gestures. And on top of that, Shaun’s personal boundaries are things that a lot of people, especially new people, aren’t aware even exist. (And some part of Neil’s heart sinks at the thought of how uncomfortable Shaun must be a lot of the time, just as a matter of course in his daily life, and he has no choice but to soldier through and ignore it.)

Shaun’s staring at his own hands. “I – I think I crossed more of a line than he ever did. Lying about…” He swallows, folding his hands and looking across the breakroom, towards the exit. “Again, I am sorry. I will tell everyone that I lied.” He’s about to leave, but Neil reaches out to grasp his shoulder and keep him in place. (This is too important to let him walk away before it’s resolved to Neil’s satisfaction.)

“This is different,” Neil says, gesturing between them. “With you and me, it’s _different_. You didn’t cross any line with me because…” God, because with Shaun, _he_ _has no lines_. (Though he has no idea how to say that without sounding inappropriate, himself.)

“Because?” Shaun prompts, when Neil doesn’t speak.

“Because…I don’t mind what you did. I just told you that you can use me to get out of _any_ situation you aren’t comfortable with, if it’ll help. Do you understand?”

Shaun hesitates before nodding. “Are you…certain? I touched you without your permission.”

“I’m certain. And you _have_ touched me before,” Neil says gently. “Not often, but have I ever gotten upset?”

“No,” Shaun admits. “But I have never held your hand before. If someone did that to me without my permission…I would not like it.”

“We’re _friends_ ,” Neil says, feeling like Shaun needs that particular reminder right now. “And you know I don’t feel the same discomfort with touching people as you do. So, one last time: I. Don’t. Mind.”

Shaun nods again, then extends a finger and taps Neil lightly (and repeatedly) on his arm, while studying his face.

After thirty seconds of resolutely pressing his mouth into a straight line to prevent himself from laughing, Neil can’t take it anymore. “What are you doing?”

“Observing your reaction.”

“Which is?”

“Amusement.” Shaun frowns, like he’s not quite satisfied. “I’ll have to conduct further research when you are not expecting it.”

“You do that, Murphy.” He turns to pick up his coffee again, mostly to repress the strong and sudden urge to pull Shaun into a hug. “Report your findings to me. Maybe you can even write them up.” He waves his free hand like he’s reading a research study’s title: “Reactions of a Surgical Attending to Instances of Random Touching: An Observational Study.”

“Hmm,” Shaun hums. “Your title needs work.”

“ _Your_ title,” Neil reminds him.

“I will take it under advisement.” Shaun pokes him in the arm again and Neil can’t stop his laughter anymore. “Mirth,” Shaun murmurs. “Interesting.”

“Mirth and amusement are the same thing.”

“Amusement is milder. Mirth is…genuine enjoyment and happiness.” He’s staring at Neil now, and the wheels are practically visible as they turn in his head.

“There’s your answer then. Happiness.” He reaches over to tap Shaun’s own arm in reassurance, and slight question. “Does that finally convince you that I didn’t mind what you did?”

“Maybe,” Shaun allows, and he’s smiling now, too, and there’s an idea forming in Neil’s mind, growing and coalescing until it overtakes everything else.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Neil can tell Shaun’s lost on the question, because they’ve gotten away from the topic he’s referring to. “People asking you out?” he clarifies. “Or otherwise making you uncomfortable because they don’t understand what your boundaries are?”

Shaun thinks about that. “Maybe. Kind of?”

“Murphy.”

Shaun’s shoulders fall as he fidgets in front of Neil. “Yes. Moreso now than ever before. Because Dr. Andrews has…” He stops, then starts again. “The more I do for our hospital, the more people I meet… Yes, it has been happening more. People are usually very understanding once I explain that I do not want a relationship with anyone. That I prefer to keep my distance from people. However, it _is_ tiresome having to…always explain.”

”You told me that you were going to confess to Audrey and the others that you lied,” Neil carefully reminds him. “And that is up to you, Shaun. If you want to tell them, then tell them. But I have another suggestion…” Neil takes a breath, considers that this is the best way he knows how to help Shaun with this problem. (The _only_ way that he knows how to help him with this.) “Let people continue to believe we’re together.”

Shaun’s staring at him with some mixture of confusion and surprise. “…What?”

“No one will ask you out anymore if it becomes a ‘known’ fact that we’re in a relationship. And anyone who isn’t aware, like a patient or someone you meet at an event, just tell them about us. It’ll make life easier for you. You won’t have to always explain yourself. I’ve found that saying you’re in a relationship is the fastest way to fend off unwanted attention. It’s a fact which 99% of people automatically accept without question or protest.”

“I would not know,” Shaun admits, shifting uncomfortably. “I have never…”

“That doesn’t matter,” Neil says, brushing aside his confession, because it’s not important. “You already know all of this on some level, Shaun, because your instincts were right – you saw how quickly Ellis backed down. And there’s the added benefit that _no one_ who knows me will ever do anything to cross me. Like harass you. In any way.”

“You would… You would pretend I meant that much to you?”

“There’s nothing ‘pretend’ about it,” Neil assures him. “You already mean that much to me. You’re one of my best friends.”

Shaun takes that in before saying, “I feel the same.”

Neil can’t even categorize the rush of relief he feels upon hearing that. (It’s pretty much always been known, but they’ve never actually _said_ these kinds of things out loud.) “Here’s the thing, Shaun: people don’t place friendships on the same level as they do romantic relationships. It’s simply a fact of our society that the latter is respected much more. So if we let people believe we’re together…that would have an immediate effect on how people view us – and how they interact with us – that we couldn’t achieve any other way.”

“You would…do this for me?” Shaun’s still skeptical, but there’s something more in his voice…it’s perilously close to hope.

Everything in Neil warms at the way Shaun’s looking at him. “I would do this for you,” he confirms. ( _He’d do anything for Shaun, probably._ )

“But…what about you?”

“What about me?”

“If everyone thinks we’re together, then you could not date anyone.”

“Have you seen me date anyone since Jessica?” Neil asks, then teasingly adds, “I mean, besides you?”

“No.”

“There’s your answer. Just like you, I don’t want a relationship right now. It’s been long enough since Jessica that people have hinted around the topic, or offered to set me up with their friends or neighbors or third cousins. But I currently have no interest, so you’d be a great cover.”

Neil’s not lying, either. The thought of another relationship now is still too mentally exhausting (being with Jessica had been so much _work_ for both of them, especially at the end). Even so, while getting people to back off about his own personal life is a side benefit, the main reason Neil wants to do this is to help _Shaun_.

“If you are sure, then okay.” Shaun takes a deep breath, then says formally, “Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s not like this will be any hardship for me.” Neil nudges Shaun’s arm and then takes another sip of his rapidly cooling coffee. “It’ll make me look good if people think I landed you. And you know how much I love making myself look good.”

“That is not difficult,” Shaun lightly replies.

Neil presses a hand to his chest. “Was that – did you just _compliment_ me, Murphy?”

“No,” Shaun claims (though his eyes say yes). “Claire told me that some people find you attractive.”

He feigns annoyance. “Only ‘some’?”

“A lot more than ‘some’,” Shaun relents. “Based on what the nurses say, too.”

“I’m _really_ enjoying this conversation,” Neil smirks at him. “By all means, keep going.”

Now Shaun seems (inexplicably) exasperated. “I believe I have said too much already.”

“You know, you’re not exactly unattractive yourself.”

“That is quite the compliment from my…” Shaun hesitates, eyeing him. “What should I call you?”

“Neil?” he offers, as if he doesn’t know exactly what Shaun’s getting at.

Shaun huffs out a breath. “Boyfriend?”

Neil’s mind skips over that word. It has been a _long_ time since anyone used that word with him (because he knows Jessica never did) and he’s having flashbacks to med school. It also feels inadequate, somehow, and has the additional, discomfiting element of being decidedly untrue.

“Let’s go with partner,” Neil suggests, surprised at how right that sounds. No, more than sounds – it _feels_ right. “We’re partners, okay?” ( _Yes, that definitely fits, because they were partners in this relationship, pretend as it might be._ )

“Partners,” Shaun slowly repeats. “That works. I like it.”

“I like it, too.” Neil studies him, taking in the brightness of Shaun’s eyes, the way he’s leaning slightly into Neil’s space, the half-smile on his face – everything about him. _Everything_. Shaun’s happy and it’s such an obvious and complete reversal from earlier, when he’d been talking to Ellis, that all Neil feels is happy, too. (He made the right decision.)

“Do you think we should…” Shaun hesitates until Neil nods in indication to go on. “Should we tell people?”

“How long have you worked here?” Neil asks dryly, as he glances at the clock on the wall. “They left ten minutes ago and it’s going on 4 – everyone will know by 5, at the latest.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

With uncanny timing, the breakroom door opens and one of Lim’s residents walks in, freezing when he sees Neil and Shaun standing not even a foot apart over at the counter. “Oh! I didn’t know you two were in here – I’m sorry.” He hastily backs out, slamming the door behind him with a crash that leaves Neil wincing.

Neil holds a hand out towards the door, silently telling Shaun, _You see?_

Shaun only seems confused. “Why did he run out of here?”

“He clearly knows we’re ‘together’,” Neil uses air quotes. “And he found us in here alone. What do you think he thought he might be interrupting?”

Shaun’s eyes widen. “It is the middle of the workday!” He sounds downright scandalized, then looks around the room with something akin to horror (or maybe like he never wants to touch anything in the room ever again). “Have you seen people…”

“No, Shaun, I’ve never seen anyone making out in the breakroom.” He waits a beat. “Probably because it’s always too busy.”

He opens the door for Shaun and the two of them head back towards the main lobby of the surgical wing. They get halfway there before Shaun asks curiously, “Where is it _not_ too busy?”

“You offering?” Neil quips.

“I want to _avoid_ those areas,” Shaun stresses, disapprovingly, as Neil starts laughing. And for the first time, he considers their relationship from an outsider’s point of view: their interactions speak to a certain affection (a definite _fondness_ ) between them that others might easily misinterpret. Things have naturally evolved that way, especially over the last few months; however, neither of them is interested in a romantic relationship with the other, so what’s the harm?

It’s no wonder, really, that Audrey had spoken as if she already believed they were together. And maybe others believe that, too. Neil doesn’t mind, though. If nothing else, his existing friendship with Shaun only makes things easier. If people already think they’re a couple, why not turn that around and use it to their advantage? And down the road, when one or both of them thinks it’s time, they’ll stage a fake break-up or something.

(A long, _long_ ways down the road – they don’t want to risk giving the impression their relationship’s fake, after all.)


	2. Chapter 2

Neil has no idea if he’s right about the whole hospital knowing by 5 that evening, but they definitely know by the time he’s getting ready to wrap things up for the night.

“Took you long enough.”

The quiet words snap Neil out of the trance he’s been in for who knows how long. (He hasn’t been able to keep his focus on anything since he left the breakroom.) He glances up from his laptop to find Jessica standing in his office doorway, arms crossed while she watches him with an air of satisfaction, and is that…exasperation?

“What?”

“To admit it,” she says, like that’s supposed to clarify anything to him.

“To admit _what_?”

“This is the game we’re playing?” She pushes herself off the doorframe and comes over to stand in front of his desk. “You’re really going to sit there and pretend like you didn’t announce to half the hospital that you and Shaun are dating?”

 _Of course._ Jessica must have assumed he and Shaun had been together for a while and keeping it quiet. (Just like Audrey had assumed, for that matter.)

“It wasn’t half the hospital,” he protests (because he’d like to point that out, thanks). “It was four people. Though with the way news spreads around here like wildfire, one probably would have been more than –”

“Neil. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“Is that something I’d do?”

“Spare me,” she scoffs.

“Fine,” he immediately gives up, because they both know she has an uncanny ability to read him. (She’s so good at seeing through him, in fact, that in the past, she’d sometimes called him out on his mere _intention_ to lie before he’d even spoken a word – whatever his tells must be, Jessica knows them backwards and forwards.) He resigns himself to an interrogation and asks, “What do you want to know?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s disappointment in her tone and it sets him on edge. He automatically sifts through every possible reason for her unhappiness. Jealousy is easy to dismiss right off the bat – she’s been in a happy relationship for over six months. Maybe she doesn’t like the idea of him and Shaun together? Because maybe there are actual issues that he’s overlooked, even if none of this is real? He has to admit that it’s a definite possibility – after all, it wasn’t like he’d thought this ‘ _Let’s pretend to be in a relationship!_ ’ plan through – unless having it occur to him and telling Shaun within two minutes counted as ‘thinking it through’… (It probably doesn’t.)

“I…couldn’t have told you,” he says, which is 100% true. He couldn’t have told her because there had been _nothing to tell_.

“Don’t you trust me?” She presses both hands on his desk, leaning slightly over it. “I would have kept it a secret if you two weren’t ready to tell people. I know we’re not…” she motions between them, “but you can trust me. We’re still friends.”

So _that’s_ where her disappointment is coming from. He instantly relaxes, relieved he isn’t going to have to defend himself, or Shaun, or their relationship. ( _Fake_ relationship.) “We’re friends and I do trust you, Jess. Honestly, there was nothing to tell until very recently.” ( _Very recently_ being some three hours earlier, but she doesn’t have to know that.)

“I thought you knew better than to lie to me,” she sighs, pressing her mouth into a discontented line.

“I’m not lying to you.” (He’s so lost that he doesn’t even know what she _thinks_ he’s lying about.)

“Drop the act, Neil. It serves no purpose. I have always been – and will always be – on your side.” Her expression softens. “ _And_ _Shaun’s_. Of course.”

“Jess, I’m really not sure what –”

“I’ve known about you two for months,” she interrupts, and strangely enough, she seems _giddy_ when she says that. Like the relief of this being out in the open has lifted some burden from her.

“You have.” It’s meant to be a question, but he can’t manage it – he’s insanely curious how she could have known for _months_ something that he and Shaun only agreed to start misleading everyone about _today_.

“Yes. It was obvious.” She takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, crossing her legs and absently smoothing down her shirt. “I’m sure you both thought you were good at hiding it, but pretty much everyone knew.”

“We weren’t hid–” He cuts himself off as her words register. “What do you mean by _everyone_?”

“Hmm, what does ‘everyone’ mean…” She taps her hand against her chin in faux-contemplation. “ _An entire group_? _All people_?”

“Don’t do that,” he warns, pointing at her. “Don’t try to – to _Murphy_ your way out of answering me.”

“I never noticed Shaun did that,” she lies, even as her grin gives away that she knows exactly what he’s talking about. “And it’s kind of adorable that you’ve named that tactic after him, can I just say?”

“No, you can’t say,” he tells her flatly. “And you’re still attempting evasion, just in a different manner.”

She’s studying him now, squinting a little in thought and apparent confusion. “By ‘everyone’, I obviously meant our hospital’s staff,” she tells him, like it should be obvious. “It was about evenly split, too. Half of them thought you were already together, the other half thought you were still on your way there.”

“You must be kidding.” This conversation is getting more absurd by the second – to the point that he almost expects her to announce this is all a practical joke at his expense.

Her expression falters, becoming a strange mix of regretful and apologetic. “I’m completely serious. It’s not…it wasn’t like we were all talking about you behind your back –”

“That’s _exactly_ what it sounds like.” He’s gone beyond floored; now he’s feeling pretty blindsided. (How could so many people have believed something that wasn’t – that had _never been_ – true?)

“You’re misconstruing what I’m saying,” she tells him. “It wasn’t about prying into your lives or about anything mean-spirited, in the least. It’s that…we could see how much you mean to each other. That’s all.”

Neil’s somewhat placated by that, because he and Shaun _do_ mean a lot to each other, but that still doesn’t clear up his confusion about the rest of what she’s saying. “You can’t be serious that everyone thought we were…together.”

“Okay, I might be exaggerating,” she relents, “but even those who didn’t believe it, or didn’t know about the gossip, were still able to tell that your relationship changed months ago.”

 _Months ago_. She must be referring to the previous spring, when he and Shaun started becoming friendlier. And their friendship had only grown over the past summer, and now… Well, now, apparently, a good number of their colleagues have been operating under the assumption that their relationship had transformed into something more than friendship a long time ago.

“We’re friends,” he hears himself insisting to Jess, feeling suddenly defensive. (How had he not known about this? Had he and Shaun _both_ been oblivious? Or had Shaun heard the rumors, too? Had that partly played into his decision to lie about their relationship to Ellis?) “How does spending time with someone equate to being in a relationship? Can’t people just be _friends_?”

“Yes, of course.” Her smile dims slightly. “But you two… _aren’t_ just friends.”

 _Oh. Right_. He has to be careful here because of her almost preternatural ability to detect when he’s lying. But if he can carefully word most of his statements as truth…she’ll be none the wiser.

“We haven’t been together as long as you – and some others – seem to think.” (Truth, because they’re not ‘together’ at all.) “We’ve grown a lot closer the past several months.” (Truth, no addendum needed.) “I care about him. A lot.” (Another truth, maybe the truest thing he’s said during his entire conversation with Jessica so far.)

From the way Jess is smiling brilliantly again, she’s clearly convinced – though it’s not like it’s hard to convince her when _most things are true_ aside from the minor detail that his relationship with Shaun isn’t romantic. It’s not lost on Neil that with the added description of a single word, he’s suddenly able to achieve everything he’s always wished he could when it comes to Shaun: Neil wants the best for him, wants to make his life easier in any possible way he can, and he wants others to know that hurting Shaun is something he’ll never tolerate – to cross Shaun is equivalent to crossing Neil, and he’ll go to great lengths to prove that fact, if need be.

However, Neil’s also incredibly practical. He’s aware that if he tried to convey all that while he and Shaun were simply ‘friends’, many would think he was too involved in Shaun’s life. Or too overprotective. Or too concerned in matters that weren’t really his business. No one would understand it – but change their relationship to ‘romantic’ and suddenly people _understand_.

It also strikes Neil that he doesn’t feel remotely guilty about misleading their friends. Because it doesn’t feel like they’re lying, it feels like they’re…reframing their relationship in a way that others will respect. (In fact, the only part of this that Neil regrets is that he hadn’t thought of doing it a while ago.)

“I heard some other things happened in that breakroom, too,” Jess says, interrupting his thoughts. Her tone is overtly casual in a way that tells Neil she’s desperate for information (and most likely lamenting that she wasn’t there to witness things for herself).

“I’m sure you did,” he tells her mildly, refusing to take the bait.

She instantly drops any pretense of skirting around the issue, choosing instead to jump right in: “You threatened to get Jacob Ellis fired?”

 _These people…seriously._ “Is that the story that’s going around?” Neil can’t be bothered to feign any semblance of sounding like he cares about such a false version of events. (Because he doesn’t – in fact, he _really likes_ that interpretation of how things unfolded.) “That’s not what happened, but I’m fine with everyone thinking I have that kind of power.”

“You _do_ have that kind of power.”

“News to me,” he says, innocently. “I wish someone had told me that years ago. I’d have had a lot of fun with it.”

“You can’t _directly_ fire someone, no, but we all know you have enough friends in high places that if you actually wanted someone gone, you could easily set things in motion to make it happen.”

He tilts his chair back and meets her eyes for a long moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” (It doesn’t matter what he says, really, when they both know she’s right.)

She scoffs at his lack of an answer. “I’m guessing that Ellis didn’t technically do anything to Shaun that’s officially considered harassment?”

Neil takes a moment to admire how sharp she is, because there’s only one possible way she could know that. Which is… “He’d be gone if he had,” Neil confirms (conveniently ignoring that his statement proves her previous assertion true – if he wants someone fired, they’ll be fired). “I’m still going to talk to him, though.”

She arches a brow. “I heard you made him cry.”

Neil starts laughing at that. “This story keeps getting better and better. Sometimes I hate the gossip mill around here, but at other times…I’m truly grateful for it.”

“You’re unbelievable.” She’s trying to hold back her smile. “You _love_ that Ellis is terrified of you.”

“I do,” he confirms, “very much.” (There’s no point in denying it, not least of all because she’d see right through him.) “And for the record, I didn’t make him cry. I didn’t threaten him. I strongly implied that Shaun Murphy is off-limits and if Ellis didn’t like that, he could deal with me.”

“Oh sure,” she hums, “because that’s not a threat.”

“It’s not.” He shrugs as his expression darkens. “It’s the truth and Ellis should have known it _already_.”

“Is that why you chose to announce your relationship today? Because of him?”

“It was part of it,” Neil answers (because that statement is true _enough_ to evade her superior lie detection skills). “If it keeps people in line…”

“Keeps them in line or keeps them away from Shaun?” Jessica asks shrewdly.

“Same thing.”

“It really isn’t.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” he throws out, solely as a last resort, because keeping people away from Shaun is the _entire point._ (And of course she’d hit upon that quickly, even if she had no clue how true it was – that it had been the very _catalyst_ for Neil’s suggestion that they pretend to be in a relationship.)

“Let’s agree that you’re in love,” she counters, stunning him into actual silence for a few moments.

“No, I can’t agree,” he says slowly. ( _In love? That’s what she thinks?_ ) “We definitely haven’t reached that…level of anything.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” She’s doing that thing where she’s rolling her eyes at him without actually rolling her eyes at him. “You’re a terrible liar, Neil. Remember, I can tell.”

 _Yes, he does remember_. Which is why this conversation is getting so strange – he feels like it’s spinning out of control on him. “We are not in love.”

“You are _so in love_ ,” she goads.

“We’re _not_ ,” he says sharply. It suddenly seems imperative that she believes him and he has no idea why – after all, it’d make things easier if she thought they were in love. It’d be easier if _everyone_ believed they were in love. (So why is he fighting her on this?)

Jessica’s eyes take on a newly sympathetic light (which, if possible, is even worse than her earlier teasing). “I’m sorry, Neil. I was only kidding; I understand how difficult it is to work through things when a relationship…changes.”

Neil restlessly taps a pen on his desk, a manifestation of his increasing agitation. She didn’t say she believed him and he’s pretty sure she still doesn’t. He’s considering arguing further when she leans forward in her chair and studies him.

“I’m glad you found each other,” she says, words sincere and nothing else. “You make each other…happier.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “We do.” ( _Truth._ )

Before Neil can start contemplating other ways to somehow prove they’re not in love, Shaun appears in his office doorway, knocking lightly on the doorframe to announce his presence (because Jess had never closed the door – though what did it matter, by now, if they were overheard? People around here were clearly going to believe what they wanted, regardless of the truth).

“I should get going,” Jess announces, with a significant look towards Neil as she stands. On her way out, she stops next to Shaun and lightly pats his arm. “I’m happy for you, Shaun.”

“Thank you,” he says politely, before frowning in confusion. “Why?”

“I heard about your new relationship. I think it’s wonderful.”

“Right. Yes.” Shaun nods vigorously enough that Neil feels slightly dizzy. “Our relationship. That we are very much…both involved in. Neil and…myself. Together.”

 _Good God, Murphy, stop talking_. Neil tilts his chair back to stare helplessly at the ceiling. He’s going to have to sign Shaun up for acting lessons, or something. ( _Anything_ , really, to prevent painful displays like this in the future.)

“Are you just…quoting the definition of a ‘relationship’ to me?” Jessica’s asking Shaun, clearly bemused.

For some reason, Shaun ignores her and _keeps talking_. “Neil and I are… We are…in love?”

Neil lets his chair drop back to the floor with a thud and whips the pen he’s still holding in Shaun’s general direction.

“Hey!” Shaun yelps, even though Jessica is the one who manages to catch it before it hits her in the head (so his aim had been a little off, but so what? They _both_ deserve it, as far as Neil’s concerned).

Traitor that she is, Jess launches the pen back in Neil’s direction (and he manages to duck just in time).

“That was childish,” Shaun scolds, as Jessica folds her arms and nods along in agreement, conveniently overlooking that her _own_ act of retaliation had been exactly the same as Neil’s.

Jessica has also ( _somehow_ ) managed to miss Shaun’s previous floundering (and the fact that Shaun’s ‘declaration’ was actually a _question_ ).

“I knew you two were in love,” she’s saying smugly, all but daring Neil to counter her again.

“Yes!” Shaun exclaims, with no idea that he’s doing _the exact opposite_ of helping Neil right now _._ “We are very much in love. That is what I said.”

Neil resists the strong urge to bang his head on his desk as Jessica openly gloats in her victory – and Neil knows it’s not even what Shaun’s saying that makes her happy, it’s knowing she was _right_ along with the added bonus that it had come at the price of Neil being _wrong_.

“Knew it,” she mutters to herself, staring Neil down. Like she wants him to confess. (But he _can’t_ – she’ll know he’s lying. Right? He’s honestly starting to become confused.)

“Goodbye, Jess,” he says pointedly, glaring from her to the door. “I need a word alone with my…” He grits his teeth. “Partner.”

Her smirk at him as she leaves is particularly grating. Once she’s gone, Shaun finally comes the rest of the way into the office, closing the door behind him.

“That went well,” Shaun says cheerfully, completely oblivious to Neil’s frustration. “She believed me.”

“She did.” Neil debates throwing his pen at him again. (If he could find it somewhere in the corner where it rolled after it landed.) “Despite how _terrible_ you were at trying to convince her.”

Shaun has retrieved the pen and gently sets it on Neil’s desk. “I was not believable?”

“Not in the slightest. Yet Jessica seemed to buy it without question.” Frankly, it’s bizarre. Neil’s beginning to think her skills at lie detection are faltering. (Or have somehow vanished. _Completely_.)

“I tried,” Shaun says, taking the seat Jessica had recently vacated. “I don’t know what else I should do.” (Neil doesn’t like that the smile has fallen off his face because it’s not Shaun’s fault. _Not at all_.)

“Murphy.” He comes around to the front of his desk so he can lean back against it. “We don’t have to _do_ anything. Remember what I said earlier? In the breakroom? Let people talk on their own. If someone asks you, simply confirm it, that’s all. People who know me will know better than to start prying, or asking questions that are too personal.” He pauses, thinking of his and Lim’s other residents (and their _patent inability to leave him alone_ ). " _Most_ people will know better,” he amends.

“Okay,” Shaun agrees; he seems a little skeptical, but more than willing to go along with Neil’s suggestion. (Which isn’t surprising – outside of Neil and their selective group of friends, he’s not often comfortable answering personal questions.)

“After my conversation with Jess, I don’t think we’ll have to ‘convince’ people of anything,” Neil says. “She told me people have been speculating about our relationship for months, and some of them even thought we were together, already.” He searches Shaun’s face for any trace of surprise, but finds none. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“About the rumors?” Shaun folds his hands, glancing away. “Yes. Claire told me recently because she wanted to know if they were true. I assumed you had heard them, as well.”

Neil shakes his head at the fact that even _Shaun_ had known while he’d been oblivious. (What has he been _doing_ these past few months? How had he become so distracted that he’d fallen completely out of the loop?) “I was completely clueless.”

“I would have told you, had I known you were unaware.”

“Is that what gave you the idea today? When you told Ellis we were in a relationship?”

“That was part of it,” Shaun admits. “It occurred to me when he tried to get me alone. I knew what he wanted. What he would say. And then I looked over at you…” Shaun lifts a shoulder like there’s no need to continue explaining.

“That was only part of it?” Neil asks. “What was the other part?”

“It seemed easier.”

Neil waits for elaboration that isn’t forthcoming. “Easier?”

“Than deterring him on my own. Which had not been successful to that point. You make things easier. You make a _lot_ of things easier.” Shaun’s matter-of-fact answer kind of astonishes Neil; he’d had no idea Shaun felt that way. Before he can even begin to think of a response to that, Shaun keeps talking. “I thought he knew about the rumors, that he would believe me when I said we were together. However, his surprise indicated that he had no idea. I suppose he has not been here long enough.” He hesitates for a moment, not quite looking at Neil when he asks, “Are you angry?”

The question comes out of left field, catching Neil off-guard. “Why would I be angry?”

“Because I knew what people said.” Shaun’s now staring at his clasped hands. “And I…used that information for my own benefit. It did not occur to me that you might not like my actions until it was too late to take them back.”

“I wasn’t angry before.” Neil takes the seat next to Shaun’s so they can be at eye level. “I’m not angry now.”

“Alright,” Shaun says, relieved. “I wondered if you might change your mind. About…”

“This? _Us_?” Neil’s surprised he would be worried _at all_ (especially considering that Shaun had originally offered to retract his statement and admit to Audrey and the others that he was lying about their romantic relationship). “No, I haven’t changed my mind. And I’m not going to. Remember, _I’m_ the one who told you to let everyone keep thinking that we were together.” He deliberately waits for Shaun to glance at him, resisting the sudden urge to reach out and touch him. “You’re stuck with me, Murphy. For the indefinite future.”

“Okay,” Shaun says agreeably, then corrects, “We are stuck with _each other_.”

(Neil definitely likes Shaun’s way of phrasing it a lot more than his own.)

He has no idea how long he sits there, staring at Shaun without speaking, until his resident asks, “Are you ready to go?”

“Five minutes,” Neil says, shaking himself back to reality. They’d agreed to grab dinner after work (and it has nothing to do with the charade they’re putting on – they’d planned this days ago). It’s not uncommon for them to spend time together, whether it’s going to dinner, or the movies, or just spending a quiet evening at one of their apartments while watching a game or searching for something new on Netflix. It’s no secret, either; they’ve never tried to hide their friendship. And in light of what Jessica had told him, Neil’s only now realizing that to some outsiders, it must have seemed like they’d been dating for some time. _Quite_ some time. Not that he cares what others think of him, or his relationship with Shaun, but it does strike Neil as odd that he’d never been even _peripherally_ aware of it. It had simply never occurred to him how things might look to others.

“Why did you throw your pen at us?” Shaun’s watching Neil pack up his things.

Neil sends him a significant look. “You deserved it. You _and_ Jess.”

“I disagree.”

“Do you?” Neil can’t help his smile. “Alright, then I apologize.”

“You are not being sincere.”

Neil only smiles wider, because yeah, he’d been pretty sarcastic with that ‘apology.’ “I was trying to get you to stop talking. Clearly, I was unsuccessful. I don’t think I could _ever_ get you to stop talking.”

Shaun frowns at him. “You like it when I talk.”

“I do,” Neil agrees (because he does). And he’s told Shaun that many times. He still brushes a hand over Shaun’s arm in reassurance when he passes by him to put away a reference book. “But I _don’t_ like when you tell Jessica that we’re in love not even a minute after I vehemently deny to her that we are.”

“Why did you deny it?” Shaun asks. “Isn’t the point that people believe it?”

Neil barely stops himself from saying that he doesn’t know why. Because he _does_ know why he denied it (so why does it _feel_ like he doesn’t?). “I couldn’t lie to her when she brought it up. She excels at knowing when I lie and it would have given everything away if I started talking about feelings I don’t have.” It rings in his mind again – the strangeness of her refusal to believe him when he denied that he and Shaun were in love.

“She believed me when I lied,” Shaun points out.

“She did. Even though you were quite terrible at it.” He sidesteps when Shaun reaches over to no doubt pinch his arm or something. “Maybe she can’t tell with you. Or maybe she’s not as good at reading people as she used to be.”

Shaun’s watching him carefully. “Do you want me to deny it if the topic comes up again? With anyone?”

“No,” he grabs his keys, “I’ve resigned myself to the fact that a lot of people believe it, anyways.” (And Neil had been the only one left in the dark.)

They leave Neil’s office, heading for the elevators, but Neil stops short when he sees the group gathered around the main desk: Claire, Morgan, and Park. All of them look decidedly not busy and just _happen_ to be standing where Neil and Shaun will have to pass them to leave.

It’s not a coincidence. (Nothing is _ever_ a coincidence with these people.)

He just went through a round of ‘ _Let’s quiz Neil Melendez on his relationship!_ ’ with Jessica, so he’s not exactly in the mood to repeat it. The only thing he wants is to have a nice, quiet dinner with Shaun. ( _Well, as quiet as Shaun ever gets._ ) And then he’ll relax and process exactly what happened to his day, but all of that is going to be significantly delayed if he has to stop for an interrogation with a myriad of residents.

“Maybe we can take the back elevators,” Neil suggests, even as Shaun’s walking away. “Murphy!”

“Why would we do that?” Shaun calls back. “The main elevators are closer.”

One of these days, Shaun will do exactly what Neil wants him to do. (Yeah…probably not.)

He reluctantly follows Shaun, for no other reason than because he can’t let the younger man face them alone. (He’d never be that cruel, especially not where Shaun’s concerned.)

They come to a stop near the desk: Morgan is seated behind it; Claire’s in front of it, shifting a chart restlessly from hand to hand; and Park is leaning against the end of it, expression eerily blank.

“Residents,” Neil greets, tone letting them know that he’s acutely aware of why they’re hanging around the main lobby of the surgical wing.

“Dr. Melendez,” Morgan returns, with a politeness that’s most likely feigned. She nods at Shaun, as well. “Murphy.”

Neil’s not surprised at her presence the way he used to be – she’s around him and his team enough that she might as well still be on it. (Not that it makes that much difference, most of the time, based on how often Neil and Lim mix up their residents.)

After Jared had left their hospital the previous spring, Neil had still technically had one too many residents, but Audrey conveniently had space to take one person on. Neil had been prepared to tell Morgan and Park to decide between themselves who was staying with him (because there was no way in hell he was letting Shaun or Claire go), but before he could, Morgan had told him she wanted to transfer. His former resident is sharp: she knew that his patience with her was wearing dangerously thin and it was going to ruin her chances of being hired permanently. No, he’s not in charge of who works at their hospital, but as Jessica had pointed out, they all know that one word from him means Morgan would never be seriously considered. So when she saw a chance to start over with someone new, she seized it. In the months since, her attitude has markedly improved (probably due to some combination of fear that she was alienating her potential future co-workers coupled with Audrey’s express inability to deal with nonsense).

All that said, however, _she’s still Morgan_ and Neil can usually only take her in small doses.

“How are you two?” Claire asks, interrupting Neil’s contemplative thoughts.

“Drop the act,” he orders, looking at Morgan and Park in warning, as well. “We’re not doing this.”

“Not doing _what_?” Morgan asks, trying for an innocence that Neil will never believe from her (on the rare chance that she ever _was_ innocent).

“This.” Neil motions at the assembled group. “ _This_ is what we’re not doing.”

“We’re just hanging out at the front desk,” Morgan informs him.

“Exactly,” Claire supplies. “Us residents always meet at –” she checks the time, “– 7:12 in the evening.”

“No, we don’t,” Shaun says, as his co-workers send him mildly censuring (and fond) looks in exasperation.

“It’s a…new policy?” Claire tries to claim.

“We have no idea what you’re insinuating,” Morgan tells Neil, glossing right over Claire’s futile attempts at trying to come up with a plausible excuse for why they’re all standing around in the hallway at this time of evening. “We’re _working_. In fact, I was just checking up on a few patients.” She gestures to the computer in front of her.

Neil leans around the desk to see the screen – the _black_ screen. “Kind of hard to do when it’s _off_ ,” he points out.

“You know these power-saving measures.” She slaps a hand down on the keyboard and the computer comes back to life. “The times keep getting shorter and shorter!”

“I’ve noticed that,” Claire agrees, “and I was just filling out this chart…” She glances down, seeming to realize she has nothing to write with, and that’s when Morgan flips her a pen. “Thank you, Dr. Reznick.”

“While I do appreciate this terribly-acted play that you’re putting on for my benefit,” Neil tells them, “none of you are particularly subtle.”

“Funny,” Morgan says, archly, “I was going to say the same thing about you and Murphy.”

Neil stares at her until she glances away, but he can’t refute her comment, because she’s right. (And they’re trying to make people think they’re together, aren’t they?)

Alex continues studying him and Shaun like they’re the prime suspects in some mysterious crime and he’s deciding how best to prove their guilt. “For what it’s worth,” he remarks, “I wasn’t _trying_ to be subtle about observing you.”

(Neil appreciates the honesty, at least.)

“Where are you off to this evening?” Morgan inquires. “Heading out…together?”

“We are going to dinner,” Shaun answers.

Neil tries to seize the unexpected opportunity. “Speaking of which, we should get going.” He takes a single step towards the elevators. “Don’t want to be late.”

“We have not made reservations anywhere,” Shaun counters. “Therefore, it would be impossible to arrive late.”

Claire shakes her head a little, Alex (predictably) shows no reaction, and Morgan finds the entire conversation (and probably Neil’s frustration) _hilarious_ – her face betrays not even a hint of a smile, but Neil can see it in her eyes.

“Shaun,” Morgan says, “I believe what Dr. Melendez is trying to tell us is that he wants to get the hell out of here.”

Neil inwardly sighs because _she’s right._ She’s almost always right, which is maddening, actually. That’s one of his main issues with her a lot of the time. She has a gift for reading people – and zero reservations about repeating her observations _out loud_ , for all to hear. (And it’s nearly impossible to argue against her – she might be easier to work with now, might be making more of an effort to play nice with others, but he’s still often grateful she’s not on his team anymore.)

“Where are you thinking of going to dinner?” Alex’s question seems innocuous enough, but Neil has the uncanny feeling that no matter what answer he gives, it will probably unintentionally reveal seventeen layers of meaning that Neil _himself_ isn’t even aware of.

“I want to try someplace new,” Shaun says, like this is a normal conversation and their words aren’t being thoroughly dissected by the three vultures – _residents_ – in front of them.

“You two looking for any recommendations?” Morgan asks. “Something intimate? Or…romantic?”

“Recommendations would be welcome,” Shaun says politely, catching Morgan off-guard, if the way she blinks at him is any indication.

“I…have a whole list,” she says slowly. “I’m something of a food connoisseur. I rate the local restaurants each time I go out to eat and I’m always trying new places. I’ll forward you the list I’ve made.”

“I would appreciate that,” Shaun tells her warmly.

Neil studies her critically as she takes out her phone; he’d had no idea Morgan rated the restaurants she visited, and Claire seems surprised as well, but Park doesn’t react (so who’s to say if he knew). Neil’s waiting for the catch, but there doesn’t seem to be one. Morgan’s being genuine. _Sincere_. He files the moment away in his mind to evaluate later.

Claire’s looking between him and Shaun with growing anticipation, and it’s obvious she wants to say something, but isn’t sure if it’d be welcome.

He impatiently waves a hand at her. (Apparently, they _are_ doing this, despite his protests.) “Out with it.”

“We’re so happy for you two,” she says, as her face breaks into a wide smile. (Alex nods slightly, which must indicate agreement, and Morgan doesn’t even look up from her phone.) “I want you to know, I called it first! I knew you were together months ago. No one believed me back then. But I could tell. I’m incredibly observant, you know.”

“Are you?” Neil asks, with no shortage of amusement. From the corner of his eye, he catches Shaun shaking his head.

“We were not –”

“Murphy,” Neil loudly interrupts, nudging him in the arm. “It’s fine. They…know.” He pretends not to notice Alex’s gaze, minutely sharper than it was a few moments before.

“Yes, we know.” Claire sighs wistfully, like they’re all characters in the middle of a romantic comedy or something. “And we’re glad you’re finally comfortable enough to admit it to everyone.”

Neil and Shaun glance at each other and then simultaneously nod in agreement. Silence falls and Neil begins to wonder why the other three haven’t jumped all over them with questions. But when he thinks about it more critically… Claire is far too polite to ask anything they might not want to answer; she’ll prefer to hint around and ask veiled questions the next few weeks until she learns everything she wants to know. Park thinks that _everyone lies_ (and isn’t that true, in this case, more than he’ll realize). He probably has other, more accurate ways of gaining whatever information he seeks (and that’s assuming there are things he doesn’t know already). And Morgan, well, she might be overly blunt when it comes to most things like this, never shying away from airing others’ personal issues, but she has a steadfast sense of self-preservation – she _has_ to know that a misstep here will cost her dearly. (And doubly so if Neil interprets anything she says as an intentional slight against Shaun.) So she’s censoring herself, for once, and it’s as refreshing as it is…disconcerting.

All of it means that the five of them are at a stalemate, and Neil is just about to use it as an opportunity to leave when Marcus strolls up to the assembled group. Because _of course this is when Marcus shows up_.

“Melendez!” he all but yells, as he walks over to them, adding slightly more subdued, “and Murphy. Just the two employees I wanted to see.”

“It’s getting late,” Neil begins, as he glances behind their boss to the elevators. “Do we need to do this now?”

“Thinking of making a run for it?” Marcus asks cheerfully, as Neil snaps his eyes back over to him.

 _Yes. Yes he was._ “What? No, that’s ridiculous…”

“Uh huh. Look, we can do this the official way,” Marcus informs them, “with me dragging you two aside for a private meeting and then talking to all of our residents individually. Or we can do it quickly, right here, out in the open, with all of us together. That would, of course, save me significant time – but I’m open to a vote.”

Neil glances at the other four people around them; they are _riveted_ , for lack of a better term. Claire’s eyes are like saucers as she glances among them – of everyone there, she’s the most likely to come to his and Shaun’s defense, if needed. Morgan’s expression is as serene as ever, but she’s studying Marcus, no doubt taking her cues from him (and if there’s any way for her to benefit from this, she’ll undoubtedly manage to do so). Even Alex has stilled – Neil’s not sure how he can tell, based on the way the man usually carries himself, but something about it is obvious. And Shaun merely shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to him where they discuss this (and it probably doesn’t).

“I vote we talk right here and now, out in the open,” Morgan says quickly. She’s overly eager, in a way that’s not normal for her – she excels at keeping herself in check. Neil honestly can’t tell if she’s excited at the potential drama that might unfold, or at the possibility of garnering points with Andrews – maybe both.

“All agreed?” Marcus asks, and when everyone more or less nods, he pauses for a significant few seconds ( _God, the man has a flair for the dramatic_ ) and then says, “Alright.” He pauses again and Neil resists the urge to shake him. “It has come to my attention, officially, in any case, that you two –” he points at Neil, then Shaun, “– are in a relationship.”

“Yes,” Neil confirms, because there’s nothing else he can say. (Except the truth and he’s not going to do _that,_ not when he’d already made up his mind about going through with this.)

“It’s also come to my attention that…let me make sure I get this right.” Marcus levels him with a look. “ _Neil Melendez makes the rules around here and can do what he wants_.”

Neil barely, _barely_ hides a wince. “I don’t recall saying that.” When Marcus just stares at him, he adds, “…In so many words?” A quick glance at the residents surrounding him reveals worried concern (Claire), true impassivity (Park), and an unreadable expression from Morgan who must be trying to figure out which way this is going to go before she jumps in.

“I was there,” Shaun speaks up. “Neil is telling the truth. He did not say that.”

“I believe you,” Marcus says, surprising _everyone_ , “but only that he didn’t say it in _those exact words_.”

Shaun glances at Neil and he minutely shakes his head in indication for Shaun not to dig himself in any deeper when they still don’t know what will happen (though it’s admittedly not looking great).

“Pop quiz time, Murphy.” Marcus turns to Shaun. “What would you do if Neil wrote a review you felt was biased in your favor?”

“He would not do that.”

Claire laughs, Morgan rolls her eyes, and Neil takes a moment to enjoy Marcus’s growing exasperation. (It’s always fun to see others suffering the way Neil does, day in and day out.)

“But if he did?” Marcus persists.

“He would not –”

“Murphy, let’s skip your perpetual defense of Neil – in this imaginary world, he wrote a review that showed clear bias towards you. What would you do?”

“I would inform him of his error. And give him the opportunity to correct it.”

“What if he refused? Or what if he corrected it and you still felt it was inaccurate?”

“I would report him.”

Marcus grins widely. “That’s cold, Murphy! And exactly the kind of attitude I want to see.”

“Of course you’d love that,” Neil mutters.

Shaun leans closer to him, saying in a voice not nearly low enough, “It would never come to that. Because you are fair and impartial.”

“Ah, if only all of us had faith in each other to match the faith you have in Neil,” Marcus tells Shaun, and he’s not even joking – he’s dead serious.

Morgan’s eyes have taken on a scrutinizing – a particularly _calculating_ – glint that Neil doesn’t think he likes.

“Sir,” she addresses Andrews, “their relationship is against a number of rules according to the hospital’s policies and guidelines on conduct between those in a direct position of power over –“

“What do you care?” Claire interrupts sharply. “You’re not on our team anymore. Dr. Melendez doesn’t oversee you so I don’t even know why you’re part of this conversation.”

Morgan glances at the desk in front of her, but before she does, Neil thinks he sees a flash of genuine hurt cross her face. Whether he imagined it or not, her face is politely icy when she looks up again. “If you’d let me finish,” her tone is particularly withering, and aimed solely at Claire, “I was going to say…none of that has ever mattered here before.”

Marcus folds his arms and then lazily waves a hand in indication that he’s listening and she should go on (and Neil isn’t sure of her angle here, but there definitely is one. There _has_ to be).

“If you decide to make an example of them, then you’d have to begin strictly enforcing those rules for our entire department,” she continues. “And policing the personal lives of hospital staff seems like an extraordinary waste of your valuable time, sir.”

“I always did hate having my time wasted,” Marcus murmurs, in agreement.

“Which is not to mention the most important point: they’ve been together for a while. Everyone knows it.” (Neil suppresses the automatic jolt of surprise at hearing someone else say that so openly – he really _had_ been living in an alternate reality from them.) “And Dr. Melendez has remained impartial towards all of us during that time,” Morgan’s continuing. “Even those of us who…” she glances briefly at Claire, “aren’t on his team anymore.”

Andrews is nodding along to all her points. “That is a fair assessment, Reznick. I have to agree.”

She veritably beams at him. “Why thank you, Dr. Andrews.”

Claire’s looking on in what Neil can only describe as _true shock_ , while Alex studies Morgan in the same way that Neil himself had been earlier.

“Morgan’s right,” Neil says, somewhat surprised at _how_ right she is. No, he’s not dating Shaun, but they have a much closer relationship than Neil has with any other resident – and that’s never changed his behavior towards them, nor would it in the future.

“Could you repeat that I'm right?” Morgan’s smirking at him. “I don’t know if you’ve ever spoken truer words, sir.”

He manages to suppress his smile, though it’s a near thing. “My relationship with Shaun doesn’t change how I feel about _any_ of you. Nor does it change how I evaluate anyone – including Shaun – on a professional level. I’ve always strived to remain objective and that’s what I plan to always continue to be. If you ever feel like I’m not, I expect you to bring it to my attention.”

“We would,” Alex assures him. “And I, for one, have never considered you anything other than fair.”

“Can anyone tell me,” Marcus addresses the entire group, “am I in the habit of making life harder for myself?”

He’s met with a chorus of _no’s,_ along with a prim, “Nor should you,” from Morgan. (Neil refrains from answering – he doesn’t believe this is a trick question, but he’d learned long ago to never willingly set himself up – especially when it comes to Marcus.)

“Exactly. And you two,” he’s motioning between Neil and Shaun, “actually make my life much easier.”

“How?” Shaun asks.

Marcus looks at Neil. “ _You_ almost never bother me anymore. You used to argue with me about _everything_. Complaints left and right –”

“I rarely, if ever, complained,” Neil…complains. _Damn it._ (Marcus got him again.)

“What was your favorite argument with me last year?” Marcus is pretending to think. “Oh right, how many residents you had –”

“You assigned me like seventeen of them!”

“Which led to, what’d you call it… _a_ _non-optimal learning environment_.”

“Well…” Neil crosses his arms and tells himself he’s not sulking. He’s simply…unhappy about the previous year. “It _wasn’t_ optimal. You remember the unnecessary competition and infighting it caused, which meant I spent too much time on those issues instead of focusing on patient care. There’s a reason teams are supposed to be smaller.”

“You might have a point,” Marcus grudgingly concedes, “but let’s not pretend like that was the only issue we fought about.”

“It’s not my fault you always take the non-rational side of an argument.”

“This. Right here. This is what I don’t miss.” Marcus turns to Shaun. “Because he brings his problems to you first and you two figure them out together without ever involving me. Which is just the way I like it.”

Neil’s about to argue, out of sheer habit, when he realizes he can’t. _He does that? He goes to Shaun first?_ The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes Marcus is right (…and how come Neil had never realized that?).

“I do excel at solving problems,” Shaun is saying, which is actually quite the understatement. The number of times he’s helped Neil work through something…whether with the board or a patient or a colleague… Or any other variety of issues…

“As for you, Murphy…” Marcus glances between them, with a careful kind of consideration that Neil appreciates. He’s obviously trying to determine how best to diplomatically phrase this so as to not offend either of them, and it’s a vast change from his behavior a year prior.

“I already know,” Shaun tells them. “Less people complain about me.”

“Got it in one, Murphy,” Marcus confirms. “Complaints about you have dropped almost to the point of non-existence. You tell people the truth. With a kind of bluntness they rarely appreciate – that they often don’t want to hear. But with Neil as an example – God help us all – you’ve learned to hold your tongue. Or, at the very least, word things gently enough that they don’t take the truth as a criticism. Or insult.”

“Diplomacy,” Shaun says, nodding. “Neil loves diplomacy.”

“News to me,” Marcus says wryly.

“Well, I don’t favor it when it comes to _you_ ,” Neil informs him, acerbically.

“It was Dr. Lim who first gave me the idea,” Shaun reveals, which Neil hadn’t known. “She told me to run my reaction to every new situation by Jared before I spoke to families. Then Jared left. So I began asking Neil. The parameters were easy to learn and within a few months, I was able to form a template of the proper and expected reactions to virtually every scenario we encounter.”

“The point,” Marcus informs them, “is that your relationship has directly led to a decrease in issues that I have to deal with. So the last thing I want to do is separate you at work.”

Neil’s relieved at that, because he’d been prepared to fight him on it (and if Marcus _had_ wanted to separate them, Neil's not sure he would have been able to convince him otherwise). He also finds it amusing that what Marcus is saying about them is true – it’s just that no one has any idea it’s true _without_ _them_ _being together_.

“So we’re all on the same page,” Marcus is saying, in summation. He takes a few seconds to look at each one of them in turn. “Barring any _valid_ concerns, this is the last I expect to hear on the topic.”

That seems to be the signal for them to disperse, as Marcus leaves, followed shortly by Claire and Alex. It leaves only Neil, Shaun, and Morgan at the desk.

“Why did you defend us?” Shaun suddenly asks her.

“Maybe I consider you two friends,” she says sweetly.

Neil manages to hold back his laughter. “Try again.”

Her mask slips, but it’s not meanness Neil spies underneath; it’s practicality. “Fine, you want to know? For all Dr. Andrews’ talk about impartiality, we all know that Shaun’s virtually guaranteed a permanent job here.” She turns to Shaun, saying bluntly, “You’re Glassman’s surrogate son and Andrews is nearly in love with you due to your impact on donors. And I won’t even get into how necessary you and Melendez seem to be to each other. Besides, what would Andrews’ suggestion have been if I decided to make it an issue?”

It doesn’t take Neil long to figure that out. “He would have ordered you and Shaun to switch teams.”

“Exactly. And even though Lim would _love_ having Shaun on her team – which of the rest of us would hate that idea the most? As a hint – it’s not me.”

“Neil and I would hate it equally,” Shaun murmurs.

“No doubt,” she agrees. “So all of that grief, with no real benefit to me, topped off with making enemies of you both…”

It’s abundantly clear now – to her mind, there hadn’t _been_ another option. (And Neil’s mostly just glad their interests have happened to align this time around.)

“Go ahead,” she tells them, as she motions toward the elevators. “Enjoy your romantic dinner. Revel in your victory that you won’t be split up. I sent you my list of restaurants.”

Shaun thanks her, heading for the elevators as he takes out his phone to peruse her list.

Neil hesitates for an extra moment at the desk. “You are aware that what you told Andrews was the truth, right?”

She shrugs at him in confusion.

“My relationship with Shaun. It doesn’t change how I feel about any of my residents.” He pauses. “Or about _you_. When it comes down to it, we’re _all_ still a team, even if you and I technically aren’t on the same one anymore.”

“I know that,” she says, rubbing a hand over her eyes in a tell of how tired she is. “I knew it a long time ago. You have integrity, Dr. Melendez.”

“I’m a firm believer of teaching by example,” he says, hoping she’ll take that to heart (though…maybe she already is). “Go home, Reznick.”

“Soon,” she promises, as he nods and heads off to join Shaun, who’s been waiting for him to hit the elevator button.

Shaun immediately launches into a description of the various restaurants on Morgan’s list (she actually _does_ include a notation on how romantic each one is because she’s just that thorough) and all Neil can do is think about how his life became flipped upside down over the course of only a few hours.

(And he wonders why today doesn’t feel any different from the day before.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am still actively working on this and my other ongoing story! I think, by now, you can safely double (or triple?) anything I ever say about story or chapter lengths - because this chapter was supposed to be their holiday gala and then I thought there should probably be some set-up...and this is what happened - they didn't even make it there yet! 
> 
> As always, thank you for all your kind comments and feedback - it really keeps me going!

It’s not that Neil expects his entire life to drastically change after he and Shaun ‘reveal’ they’re in a relationship, but he definitely expects a different reaction than what they (mostly) get.

The news about them lights up the hospital for about a week, but it’s rarely met with shock (or even surprise). Rather, the typical response is some variation of what they’d heard from Jessica and the rest of their team – most people claim they’d ‘known’ he and Shaun were together, or at least suspected.

It’s an increasing feat for Neil to keep a straight face when he hears people talk about how ‘obvious’ it was that he and Shaun were dating. He even gets a few mild lectures asking why they’d tried (‘unsuccessfully’) to keep it a secret for so long. And even though it’s all good-natured ribbing, at heart, Neil can’t help feeling the exact same defensiveness that had set in when Jessica came to his office that first day to insist she’d known all along.

There are a handful of times that Neil wants to snap at people, inform them exactly how wrong they are, but it’s easy to refrain for one reason, and one reason only: Shaun. He’s not about to tell _anyone_ that this entire thing was fake – and not because he cares about himself or his reputation, but because Shaun would most likely end up hurt by it. No one should ever start distrusting Shaun, or think any less of him, because of a plan that has no maliciousness attached to it. Their agreement doesn’t benefit Shaun financially or professionally, all it does is incentivize people to leave him alone, and he should never have to suffer for that.

What it comes down to is that Neil feels like _he’s_ the one who’s surprised the most by this whole thing – because he’s surprised at _other people’s reactions_. He’d been anticipating a fight of some kind, whether from Marcus, or the administration, or their co-workers… Neil’s just used to having to  _fight_ for things. So to receive not even a cursory protest, from anyone? It’s disconcerting, to say the least. 

No one treats them differently, but then again, why would they if most of their colleagues thought they were together already? Neil and Shaun don’t act any differently, either. They don’t try and ‘prove’ their relationship, though they still spend the same (excessive) amount of time together as they ever did. And they’d also agreed, early on, that they wouldn’t attempt any displays of affection. (Just the thought makes Neil cringe when he imagines how Shaun would act out a scene like that, especially after his disastrous attempt at merely  _telling_ Jessica about their ‘relationship’.)

That said, there are two things that have changed in the last few months. The first is that Shaun is much more comfortable around him – it had started when they became closer friends, but Shaun definitely touches him more now. Always in casual, minor ways, but it’s still significant to Neil; he’s happy Shaun trusts him enough to be more open with him. Neil’s cautious about responding in kind, never wanting to accidentally step over any boundaries, but Shaun never protests anything he does, either verbally or by pulling away from him. In fact, the more affectionate Neil becomes, the more Shaun is, too – it’s like some kind of circular feedback loop. (Neil really likes it, actually.)

The second thing he learns is that no one bothers Shaun. _No one_. Until Shaun happily reveals this, over lunch one day in late November, Neil genuinely had no clue that some people still did. And he must look pretty stricken when he hears it, if the way Shaun blinks at him is any indication.

“It was nothing like it used to be,” Shaun assures him. “I have many friends here. They are kind and always defend me, if necessary. But I am still used to…having my opinions challenged by people who don’t know me well. Or hearing offhand remarks that people don’t realize are…” He shrugs without finishing the sentence. “It almost never happens anymore. I had noticed a decline before we…announced our relationship. I now believe it was because many people thought we were already together.”

“You should have told me before,” Neil says, though there isn’t much he could have done. He’s not about to go around chastising anyone who makes a vaguely insulting or insensitive remark to Shaun – and Shaun can definitely handle himself. (But somehow, neither of those facts stops Neil from  _wanting_ to confront every person who’s ever hurt Shaun, intentionally or not.)

Shaun’s face has become more serious. “I did not tell you today in order to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” Neil mutters (but of course he’s upset and they both know it).

“I told you because I consider the change a good thing,” Shaun informs him. “Also, no one has asked me out in over two months.” He sounds downright _gleeful_ at that last sentence.

Neil finds himself smiling when he hears that. “I’m very happy that no one has risked my wrath by propositioning you.”

“Many people are afraid of you,” Shaun confirms, in his own roundabout way of agreement. “Have others changed how they treat you, as well?”

Neil hasn’t given it much thought, because he realizes with a jolt, _nothing_ has been happening – and he tells Shaun as much. He’s simply, thankfully, been _left alone_. No questions about whether he was ready to date again. No more offers to set him up. And the best, perhaps, were no more saccharine and sympathetic inquiries along the lines of ‘how are you doing since Jessica?’.

As it turns out, he and Shaun have _impeccable_ timing, because Jessica had gotten engaged a mere three weeks after Neil and Shaun had decided to let people think they were dating. He’s sure that – without Shaun as a cover – there would have been a barrage of well-meaning, but infuriating spiels for Neil to deal with. People would have asked how he was ‘holding up’ in light of her engagement. Jessica would be dancing around the issue, too, not sure how to talk to him about it. And everyone would be carefully trying to ascertain if he’d be attending the wedding – Jessica herself would probably be on edge about it. (It’s not even a question now, she’d already warmly told both him and Shaun that she expects them to be there.)

Neil knows the people in his life, _knows_ what they would have thrown at him for months on end, in desperate attempts to be helpful and ‘make him feel better’. However, just as Neil’s apparently become a shield between Shaun and the people who make him (often accidentally) uncomfortable, Shaun has equally become a barrier around Neil’s entire personal life. Their friends occasionally ask how things are going, in terms of their relationship, but other than that? _Nothing_. There are no questions or suggestions or insinuations about dating or anything else, because people already ‘know’ about him and Shaun. It’s nothing but a sheer relief, and if _he_ feels that strongly about it, he can only imagine how Shaun feels.

(Pretty damn happy, if the way Shaun’s smiling at him is any indication.)

“The holiday gala’s coming up soon, less than a month away!” Morgan chirps, slapping down a brightly colored red and gold flyer between his and Shaun’s trays on the table. (It’s _sparkly_ , too – dear God, Marcus must have put her in charge of the design.) “I know how much you boys love these things.”

Neil suppresses his groan of annoyance – it’s not just a holiday gala, it’s an _annual_ _fundraiser_ , and their most important one by far. This is the time of year Marcus gets (even more) insufferable about it, obsessing over the venue, the list of invited donors, and every other minor detail. Thanks to their boss’s constant complaints, Neil knows more about planning these events than he’s ever wanted to – it’s not uncommon for Marcus to toss out issues during surgeries and ask for input from the whole room on how to resolve them. (Sometimes he even makes them all  _vote_.)

“We already knew about the gala,” Shaun points out, as he reads the flyer, anyways. Morgan must be holding a few hundred of them and Neil takes another one to check the time and venue – it’s at the Ritz-Carlton this year, in their grand ballroom. That tracks, because the venue had been one of the aforementioned things Marcus made them vote on. He always pulls out all the stops for this gala (read: spends excessive amounts of the committee’s yearly budget on it) and there will be hundreds of people there. (It’s twenty-three days away and Neil _already_ wants to go home.)

“This is me officially putting you on notice,” Morgan tells them, as Neil looks up at her in confusion. “Neil Melendez and Shaun Murphy are required to attend. As in _mandatory_. As in _not optional_. As in _be there or prepare to suffer my wrath_. It’s all in the fine print.” She jabs one perfectly manicured fingernail at the paper in front of Shaun (and Neil rolls up his own flyer just so he can swat her with it).

“There is no fine print,” Shaun says absently and Morgan issues him a stern look that has zero effect because he doesn’t so much as glance her way.

“I’m being glib,” she says primly, “but it’s more or less true: Dr. Andrews has put me in charge of making sure you both attend. If you don’t – like you conveniently skipped the banquet last month – I get hanged for it.” She narrows her eyes at both of them, in turn. “And I’m not about to suffer because you’d rather – well, I have no idea what you two do in your free time.” She flails her free hand in their general direction. “I envision you playing chess while discussing the finer points of what you heard on NPR on the drive home.”

Neil and Shaun exchange a surprised look, because that is _uncannily_ close to a lot of the evenings they spend together.

Morgan sighs and presses her previously flailing hand to her chin in faux-thought. “How have you two not bored each other to death yet? I guess it shows there really _is_ someone out there for everyone.”

“Morgan,” Neil growls, shooing her towards the exit like she's a particularly unruly cat, “move along.”

“I’m not done with my threats, Dr. Melendez. Namely, if I show up to this gala at 7 pm sharp,” she points at the time on a flyer (like he’s blind or something), “and you two are not present, I will root out wherever in this city you are hiding from me and _drag you there_ _myself_.”

Neil believes her and the thought of her showing up at his door is close to terrifying, though he takes some comfort in the knowledge that he’d have advance warning when the temperature dropped 30 degrees and the sky turned ominously black. ( _Maybe he should get some holy water on standby, just in_ _case?_ )

Shaun apparently believes her, too, from the way he’s staring up at her with slightly widened eyes. “I do not want you anywhere _near_ my home.”

Neil isn’t successful in hiding his laughter at that, and Morgan smiles at Shaun, but it’s all teeth. “Then be there, Murphy. Or else.”

“What’s this about?” Neil asks. “We always attend these events.”

“We just covered this,” she says, tone dripping condescension. “You skipped the banquet in October.”

“That was _optional_ ,” Neil strongly protests. “Aaron said we weren’t required to attend. That means _not_ mandatory.”

“Dr. Andrews did not agree with Dr. Glassman,” Shaun needlessly reminds him.

“I still don’t see how their disagreement meant it was somehow my fault,” Neil mutters. He’d received a long-winded lecture the next day, wherein Marcus had issued him all of the blame and Shaun had gotten none (which was pretty galling because Shaun hadn’t wanted to go _equally_ as much as Neil hadn’t).

“He believes you’re a bad influence on Shaun,” Morgan says, sounding nothing short of _delighted_. “That you talk him into skipping events. And that you’ll do the same this time.”

Neil can feel his outrage growing. “It was _Murphy’s_ idea to skip it.”

“I do not recall that,” Shaun says innocently, and Neil narrows his eyes at him in silent indication he’s going to be paying for that lie later on.

“Shaun would never do such a thing,” Morgan defends him, even as her calculating smile means she at least strongly suspects that Shaun’s lying.

“Thank you,” Shaun tells her, as they both turn to look at him. (Oh no, Neil doesn’t like this, not at all. _Residents ganging up on him…it never ends well._ ) “I always fulfill my obligations,” Shaun continues. “However, Neil has a valid point – the last banquet was not mandatory.”

“Until after the fact, apparently,” Neil adds, put out. “The board threw that banquet – _for the board!_ An entire night devoted to congratulating themselves and telling each other how wonderful they are. It wasn't about promoting our hospital, it wasn't about fundraising…there was no reason for us to attend.”

“I had a fabulous time,” Morgan says, complete with a haughty flip of her hair. “Our board is phenomenal. The things they have done for this hospi–”

“Zip it, Reznick,” Neil orders. “There are no members around to hear you flatter them, and we’re not about to relay your speech, so your little show here is a lost cause.”

Her lips purse in annoyance and she shifts the stack of flyers from one arm to the other – that must be enough to remind her that she can lord this gala over them for several more weeks, since her grin returns full force. “Only twenty-three days to go!”

“We will be there,” Shaun promises. “I will make sure Neil does not skip it.”

 _Outrage!_ Neil’s outraged again. (He’s _sure_ that’s what he’s feeling.)

Morgan opens her mouth, no doubt to make another snippy remark, but Shaun beats her to it, saying, “You mentioned chess earlier. Do you know its history?”

“No,” Neil answers, in her stead, “but I’m sure it’s fascinating.”

“Indeed,” Shaun answers. “We can trace it back nearly 1,500 years. The earliest known precursor to the game –”

Morgan nearly trips over herself as she backs away from their table with the kind of haste that makes it seem like she’s afraid she’ll accidentally _learn_ something. “You two. I swear…” She turns on her heel and strolls off, calling over her shoulder, “I’m still going to harass you about the gala every day of the next three weeks.”

“You did that on purpose,” Neil says, once she’s out of earshot.

“Yes,” Shaun confirms. “Morgan is predictable; it is very easy to get her to do what I want.”

Neil wishes Shaun would share that trick with him (and the rest of the hospital, while he’s at it). “Why did Marcus have to pick the _worst_ messenger slash enforcer possible?”

“It is his attempt at punishing us for missing the banquet.”

“He didn’t care that _we_ weren’t there,” Neil says, a touch bitterly, “he was upset that he _couldn’t show us off_.”

“He was upset about me, yes,” Shaun agrees. “As for you… I do not know why he was upset that you weren’t there.”

Neil can’t help his smile at Shaun’s teasing joke (especially not when it instantly lightens his darkening mood). “Come on, Murphy. I’m _Neil Melendez_. No more needs to be said.” He’s speaking mostly in jest, but they _are_ among the top draws at any event they go to. Shaun is effortlessly endearing, in his own way, and Neil can turn his own charm on better than anyone, when the situation calls for it.

“Okay, _Neil Melendez_.” (Shaun is definitely mocking him.) “Prepare yourself to attend on…” he glances at the flyer, “Saturday, December 15th.”

“Exactly when everybody wants to attend a fundraiser – smack in the middle of the holiday season _and_ a week before Christmas.”

“I’m sure it will be festive.”

“Oh right, that’s what I’m most concerned about, Murphy. A lack of _festivity_.”

“Morgan was on the planning committee,” Shaun reminds him.

Neil had almost forgotten. “There will probably be tinsel _everywhere_.”

“Yes,” Shaun gravely agrees. “Probably.”

Neil’s about done with his lunch and he finishes his water before tossing the empty plastic container at the recycling bin some fifteen feet away. He gets it in, but he almost hits Park in the process when the other man suddenly emerges from behind a pillar, and Neil barely hides a wince. Of all people to almost hit, Park is among the worst (he could probably get Neil’s driver’s license suspended with a single phone call). Park stops mid-stride and does a quick scan of half the room before glaring at Neil who holds up his hands in innocence and points at Shaun.

“It was not me,” Shaun says, without even turning to see who Neil’s gesturing to.

“ _Murphy_ doesn’t make a habit of throwing things across rooms,” Park says, as he stops next to their table. “You, on the other hand…”

“Shaun throws things all the time!” Neil protests. _It’s unbelievable how he gets blamed for everything_. (Granted, he _was_ to blame this time, but is it so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt?)

Shaun barely reacts to his accusation. “I throw things back at you that you throw at _me_.”

“For shame,” Park scolds, shaking his head at Neil in disappointment. Then he tells Shaun, consolingly, “ _And_ you have to deal with him outside of work, too. I’m truly sorry.”

“I wish I’d hit you with that bottle,” Neil mutters.

Park’s smirking at him. “I thought it was Shaun who almost hit me?”

 _Damn Park and his previous career in law enforcement_ – _how is Neil supposed to get away with_ anything _around here?_

“I accept your condolences,” Shaun’s telling Park, like they’re at a _funeral_. “And I appreciate your support.”

Neil crosses his arms. “I think I need to throw things at you more often.” He’s not sure which one of them he’s directing that towards. Is it ‘ _Residents Band Together to Harass Neil Day_ ’? He racks his brain for some way to immediately reassert his authority. “I’m your boss. _Both_ of you.”

Park looks decidedly unimpressed (and Shaun’s never anything except that when Neil tries to put his foot down), but thankfully, he doesn’t have to listen to any more on the topic because Park becomes distracted by the flyers on their table. “The holiday fundraising gala – I’ve been looking forward to that! I wasn’t here to attend last year’s. Mind if I take one?” He’s picking it up even as he asks the question.

“You’re excited about it?” Neil asks suspiciously. (How is such a thing possible for anyone except Marcus?)

“Free food, free drinks. A fun night out with everyone. What’s not to love?” Park carefully folds the paper and puts it in his pocket. “You two will be there, right?”

“If they know what’s good for them,” Morgan yells, as Neil spins around in his seat to find her at the wall some thirty feet behind him. (How did she _hear_ Park?) She’s currently attaching flyers all over said wall with excessive amounts of tape.

“Think you have enough up there yet?” Neil dryly asks.

“This is optimal placement,” she informs them. “Everyone leaving the cafeteria will see them. One random flyer is easy to ignore, but _ten_ of them together –”

“Is an eyesore?” Neil interrupts, as Park snickers and Morgan mimes like she’s going to throw the tape at him, but doesn’t follow through. (At least she has more restraint than him, in that regard.)

“Not an eyesore,” Marcus counters, as he stops next to Neil and Shaun’s table. “It looks terrific, Reznick. We really want to grab people’s attention.”

“You should spread them out a little more,” Park suggests.

“I won’t run out,” she assures (as if that were something Park might have been genuinely worried about) and motions to the stack of papers on a nearby table. “I have hundreds.”

“Alex has the right idea,” Marcus says thoughtfully, then turns to Park. “You busy?”

Neil can tell that Park is definitely not busy and also desperately trying to think up an excuse to try and get out of tacking up flyers all over the hospital with Morgan. Unfortunately, he’s not fast enough (and it’s not like Marcus waits long, anyways).

“I’ll take the resounding silence as a ‘no’. Go help Reznick, I want to see them everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean _everywhere_. Every bulletin board, every staff lounge, every common area of the hospital – no one is going to use being ‘unaware’ as an excuse to get out of it. Not this year.”

The increasing complaint in their boss’s tone reveals it’s an excuse people have often used in the past. And it’s not even like everyone has to attend; it’s optional for most employees and the only people technically required to attend are most of the top-level staff – and of course _the entire surgical department_ because Marcus wants to show them all off. The event has become so large that for the past few years, Glassman has arranged for their sister hospital to cover them for the evening (and they return the favor when _Good Samaritan_ holds their Annual Spring Banquet, which is the same type of fundraising event, just under a different name).

“Sir,” Park begins, “Morgan hardly needs my help. It’s apparent that she’s already doing an excellent job and has this under –”

A shriek interrupts him and he breaks off as the four of them turn, almost in tandem, to watch as dozens of flyers go _flying_ (and what an apt word for them, Neil thinks). Someone had shoved open an outside door with undue force and it happened to carry a draft across the room, over the table where Morgan had set the stack offlyers.

“– control,” Park finishes, in monotone.

Morgan manages to grab a few of them, and a passerby hands her some that they grabbed, but she still ends up alone in a field of colorful flyers that settle on the floor around her. A few even land on some empty tables. She’s also aware that she’s the center of attention for everyone on their side of the cafeteria, and her laser focus narrows in on her four colleagues, yelling, “Yeah, just keep watching – that really helps me!”

Neil swiftly turns back to face Shaun again, because if she catches him laughing at her, he won’t hear the end of it for _weeks_. (He wouldn’t put it past her to use black magic – or sheer ire – to fill his entire car with flyers.)

“Park,” Andrews murmurs, briefly shutting his eyes.

“On it,” Alex sighs, going over to help her.

Within seconds, Marcus turns his attention to Neil (who very much regrets not taking the previous opportunity to escape to _anywhere else_ ); their boss doesn’t say anything, either. He just stares.

Neil makes an exaggerated show of looking around the room. “Are Shaun and I the most popular attraction in this cafeteria? Should we start charging for these appointments?”

“Careful,” Marcus warns, “I could still order both of you to assist Morgan and Park with hanging up and passing out flyers.”

Neil’s not the least bit intimidated at that ‘threat’ (of everyone, Marcus knows how much actual work that Neil has to do, and he’d never sidetrack him with anything else, no matter how much he might threaten to do so).

“Why didn’t you get _actual_ posters printed?” Neil asks, holding his hands up to approximate the larger size they would be. “Seems that would have been more effective than paper flyers.”

Marcus’s eyes sharpen on him. “That’s actually a great idea. Why didn’t you mention it to the planning committee?”

“I’m not _on_ the planning committee.”

Marcus hums thoughtfully. “That would explain why you were never at the meetings… But I remember talking to you about them quite frequently, so how did you manage to avoid joining?”

“I literally turned and walked away every time you suggested I officially join.”

“Pretty underhanded,” Marcus notes. “You really thought you’d get away with that?”

Neil oddly feels like they're not speaking the same language. “I _did_ get away with it. Until just now, when I told you how I avoided it.”

“Diabolical,” Marcus mutters, like Neil’s some kind of criminal mastermind (it’s pretty flattering, actually). “However, I like your suggestion enough that I’m going to make you an _honorary_ member of the planning committee.”

“So long as it doesn’t involve attending any meetings, or making any decisions, or doing any work… I’m fine with that.”

Neil catches Shaun’s increasingly amused smile at his stipulations and taps his foot against Shaun’s under the table in acknowledgement (at least _someone_ around here appreciates his sense of humor).

Marcus picks up the flyer Neil had rolled up earlier and smooths it out. “You  _will_ be attending this event.”

And just like that, Neil feels his annoyance return as he recalls Morgan telling ( _ordering_ ) them as much. “Why did you task Reznick with ‘reminding’ us to go?” He includes air quotes around the word. “Shaun and I don’t need a babysitter to keep us in line.”

Marcus laughs heartily at that, and to Neil’s surprise, it seems genuine. “Sure you don’t. Now remind me, who skipped the banquet last month?”

 _He’s never going to hear the end of it about that damn banquet._ Honestly, if he’d known the problems it was going to cause him in the future, he’d have coerced Shaun into going.

“It was _optional_ ,” Neil insists, and when Marcus’s expression doesn’t waver, Neil grumbles, “I’m buying everyone dictionaries for Christmas. Mark it down, Murphy.”

“Do they still make those?" Marcus wonders aloud, at the same time as Shaun vaguely waves a fork at Neil and declares, “I am not your personal assistant.”

 _Shaun makes a good point._ “About that,” Neil snaps his fingers in their boss’s general direction, “why don’t I have a personal assistant? Or at least a secretary. I think I merit a secretary.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have come over here,” Marcus is mumbling to himself. “Knew I’d regret it.”

Neil’s smile has a distinct edge. “I always do my best to ensure that’s the case.” (He’s found it helps limit his interactions with Marcus and that’s usually the best thing for their _entire_ department.)

Marcus won’t be deterred as easily as he usually is, and he quickly returns to their previous topic. “I never said last month’s banquet was optional.”

“You also never said it was mandatory,” Neil counters.

“I told Neil we should go,” Shaun chimes in, as Neil turns to him in disbelief. “Rest assured, Dr. Andrews, I will make sure he attends the gala.”

“I have no doubt, Murphy,” Andrews tells him. “You _are_ the responsible one.”

Neil can’t decide which one of them has earned his ire more. “Are you two kidding me?”

Marcus doesn’t seem swayed by Neil’s indignation. “You promised you’d be at the banquet, Neil.”

“I don’t know about _promised_ ,” Neil protests, because he hadn’t used that exact word…had he?

“I told people you’d be there,” Marcus is saying. “Now imagine how disappointed I was when you didn’t bother showing up?”

“I’m sure you were _very_ disappointed,” Shaun answers, with unnecessary gravity.

Neil looks at Shaun for a few seconds without blinking. “You are playing a dangerous game, Murphy.”

Andrews lifts his eyebrows at Neil in astonishment (though Neil finds it hard to believe that Marcus is still surprised at anything he does). “Are you trying to intimidate one of your subordinates right in front of your boss?”

“That depends.” Neil looks sideways at Shaun. “Is it working?”

Shaun’s smile informs him it very much isn’t. “He tries to intimidate me all the time, Dr. Andrews, but you don’t have to worry. He is never successful.”

“Never, huh?” Neil thinks he’ll have to work on that. “Let me elevate my threat level: you’re playing an _extremely_ dangerous game.”

“No,” Shaun says carefully. “I do not think I am.”

Neil fails to suppress his smile – Shaun knows very well that despite Neil’s numerous complaints, he never trulycares when Shaun harasses him about (or blames him for) various things. When it comes to real issues, with real consequences, Shaun will defend him to the death, but by this point, neither of them considers Marcus’s displeasure as a ‘real’ consequence. (Mostly because their boss is always complaining about  _something_ , and it generally has to do with Neil, more often than not.)

So instead of belaboring the point, Neil turns back to Marcus. “I’m not even convinced you cared that much about _me_ not being there. You were annoyed Shaun wasn’t there and you blamed me for that. Quite unfairly, might I add.”

Marcus tellingly doesn't deny it. “The point is that you’re going to this gala, Melendez.” He flicks a glance at Shaun. “ _Both_ of you.”

“I am going,” Shaun affirms, though it was never in doubt. “It is the most important fundraising event we hold during the year.”

“More money…” Marcus begins (since he’s well-aware of Shaun’s feelings on the matter).

“Means less people die,” Shaun finishes (as Neil echoes the end of that phrase in his own mind). “I will be there and I will ensure Neil goes, as well.”

Neil resists rolling his eyes and informs Marcus, “See? He promised for both of us. So you can call off Morgan.”

“I don’t think so,” Marcus says, with a definite air of amusement that he’s trying (and failing) to conceal. “Think of her as…my insurance policy. I saw how thrilled you were when she was talking to you earlier.”

“Why am I not surprised that you were lurking nearby to watch that whole exchange?” Neil asks.

“Your horrified reaction told me I picked the right woman for the job.” He points at the wall that Morgan has plastered with at least another dozen flyers; Park had long since helped her gather the ones from the floor and she’s alone again, so he must have gone off to put them up elsewhere. “Three weeks.”

“I have a request,” Neil says, though his tone indicates it’s more a demand than anything else.

“This should be good,” Marcus mutters, then adds, more loudly, “Out with it.”

“Don’t try to split us up. At the gala.” Seeing Marcus is about to protest, he explains, “You view these events like you’re a chess master: you move us all over the board like your various pieces, and you are _always_ sending us to different groups.”

“That is true,” Shaun says, taking a renewed interest in the conversation. “I like Neil’s request. Let us stay together.”

Marcus’s frown indicates that, unlike Shaun, he is _not_ a fan of Neil’s ‘request’. “There are a very limited number of people at this hospital who are as good at swaying donors as you two. In fact, you might be the _top_ two – after me, of course.” He ignores Neil’s scoffing laughter. “That’s the only reason I do it – if I split up the best talent among our staff, we can all secure more donations in less time.”

“You have a point,” Neil allows, “but trust me, Marcus. I guarantee you that this will be our most successful fundraiser, to date, if you let us work together instead of keeping us apart.”

“We are better together,” Shaun quietly agrees.

Marcus sighs heavily, which informs them that he knows he’s already lost. “I don’t have a choice here, do I? I have to say, I appreciate you at least _pretending_ like you’re asking me when we both know that you’ve already made up your mind.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Neil says, meeting Marcus’s eyes. (Because they both know _exactly_ what he means.)

“Right,” Marcus says, clearly not buying it. Then he tacks on a reminder about a department-wide staff meeting in a half hour, and wanders off in Morgan’s direction.

“Anyone else want to join us?” Neil loudly asks, as he glances around. “No one? Has everyone already stopped by?”

“You guys lonely?” Audrey calls, from three tables over.

He issues her a glare. “No!”

“Neil,” Shaun chides, “be polite.”

“Know what politeness gets me, Murphy?”

“I would not know; I have not seen it.”

“You’re a regular comedian,” Neil says, laughing despite himself. “It gets me a lack of _peace_.” He sighs, gesturing at Audrey when she slides into one of the free chairs at their table. “Case in point.”

Audrey’s no more intimidated by him than Shaun is, greeting him with, “You seem to be under the impression that this is your own private lunchroom, Melendez.”

“It is the largest common area in our hospital,” Shaun points out. “And most people here enjoy our company.”

“I’m going to have to do something about that one of these days,” Neil gripes.

Audrey’s nodding at Shaun, like the two of them share some secret Neil isn’t privy to. “Only Neil would complain that people _like_ him too much.”

“It means they won’t leave me alone.” _How does no one understand the key point of his complaint?_

“To be fair, everyone had legitimate reasons for interrupting our lunch,” Shaun argues (because of course he’s going to defend the others, _of course he is_ ). “Morgan because she has been tasked with ensuring we attend the gala; Dr. Andrews because he wanted to repeat Morgan’s point; and Alex because you threw a bottle at him.”

Audrey looks aghast for some reason. “You threw a bottle at Park?” _Oh, there’s the reason_.

“It was plastic,” Neil shrugs her off, then turns back to Shaun. “I’ll grant you most of those, Shaun, but why is Audrey here?”

“You invited her,” Shaun reminds him.

“That was sarcasm. I was being _sarcastic_. It wasn’t a real invitation, and yet –”

“You threw a _bottle_ at Park?” Audrey repeats, horrified.

Neil shakes his head. “Are you still on that?”

She holds up her hands to tick items off on her fingers: “A, it was fifteen seconds ago. B, Murphy’s right, you invited me over. And C, are you _insane_? You do remember what Alex used to do for a living.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I was aiming for the recycling bin! Convenient that Murphy would leave that part out.”

Shaun’s watching him with clear disapproval. “I was stating facts.”

“ _Some_ of the facts. Not all of the facts. Facts which exonerate me, by the way.”

“I agree with Dr. Lim. You should not have thrown that bottle.”

Neil slaps both hands down on the table. “Is _no one_ on my side?!”

Shaun seems concerned now. “I am always on your side.”

Neil can hardly believe what he’s hearing. “You _just_ took Audrey’s side.”

“Insisting that you should be allowed to throw things around the cafeteria is ridiculous,” Shaun says, then clarifies, “I am on your side when you are not being ridiculous.”

“Good luck finding those instances, Shaun,” Audrey mutters.

“Since when am I advocating that I should be allowed to throw things all over the place?”

Shaun infuriatingly shrugs. “Your actions speak to your opinion on the matter.”

Audrey picks up the flyer Marcus had unrolled and (even more infuriatingly) waves it in Neil’s face. “Is someone in a bad mood because he’s been reminded this is part of his job?”

He snatches it from her hand, debates crumpling it up to throw at her, and then decides that would only prove Shaun’s point. “As if you’re such a fan of fundraisers.”

“I don’t mind them,” she claims. “What I don’t like is going after a long shift, that’s my main complaint. But I’ve specifically put in for the day off.”

Neil glances at Shaun, who immediately shakes his head. “We have an overnight shift the night before and don’t get off-duty until four hours before the gala. And you cannot request it off because –”

“– Audrey did,” Neil finishes. “Right.”

“You should plan ahead more,” Shaun suggests.

Neil very deliberately turns to Audrey. “Are you looking for a date to the gala? Because I think, quite soon, Murphy’s going to need one.”

“I would love to go with Shaun,” she says, grinning. Then she turns to Shaun, adding in aside, “I’m a much better time than Neil.”

“Impossible,” Neil scoffs.

“Be careful, Dr. Lim,” Shaun warns, “or you will be his next target.” He then has the audacity to add, “He might throw something at you.”

“No,” Neil says slowly, “it wouldn’t be at _her_.”

He and Shaun stare at each other in silent contest – not that it’s much of one, because Neil long ago mastered keeping a straight face. He credits (or blames?) years of being forced to show no reaction in response to absurd demands and requests from colleagues and patients and the board and Marcus. (Marcus might be the worst of all, in fact.) All of it means that he almost never loses, and sure enough, it’s Shaun who caves first, stoicism giving way as he breaks out into a smile he simply can no longer hide. And at that, Neil starts smiling, too. (They can bicker about anything, but there's rarely, if ever, any actual irritation behind it – they just do it because they enjoy it.)

Audrey’s looking back and forth between them, slowly realizing their entire ‘argument’ has been nothing more than a game. “Forget it – you’re _both_ ridiculous,” she asserts, with a growing smile of her own. “And I’m getting back to work before I go into a diabetic coma through…I don’t know. Osmosis.”

“Stellar display of medical expertise,” Neil calls after her as she leaves, then turns back to Shaun. “I think we really had her going for a minute there.”

He realizes, in the following silence, that Shaun’s staring at him. No…Shaun’s _studying_ him. Neil waits a few moments, but his resident says nothing.

“Are you okay?” Neil asks.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“I am…” Shaun finally switches his gaze to the table, or more accurately, the forgotten flyer of Neil’s. “Thank you.”

Neil’s completely lost. “For…?”

“What you said to Dr. Andrews.” Shaun glances back up at him. “Telling him you wanted us to stay together. Asking him not to send us in different directions.”

Neil relaxes significantly. “You’re giving me too much credit. I said all that mostly for _my_ benefit. You know I don’t love these things – I expect you to insulate me from the boredom that inevitably sets in among the most mind-numbing of the people that we’ll be forced to entertain.”

(Not that Neil has any objection to donors, in general. Plenty of them are great people who give money because they genuinely want to help those in need. But a certain subset of them is insanely elitist, the type that only talk about themselves, and their wealthy lifestyles, and the worst – particularly unsubtle insinuations that their mere existence in the world is a gift to everyone else. Marcus fits in quite well with that last crowd, come to think of it.)

“You are lying,” Shaun says quietly.

Neil’s taken aback. “What? I assure you that I’m telling the truth. I always have a much better time when we’re together than when –”

“Not about that,” Shaun interrupts. “I know you feel that way. I am referring to your claim that it was mostly for your benefit. That is not why you told him to leave us alone.”

“Shaun –”

“You did it for _me_.”

Neil can’t bring himself to deny it; there’s no point when they both know the truth. “I know how uncomfortable you can get with that many people around. And when many of them want your attention at the same time…”

“It is difficult to manage,” Shaun sighs in agreement. “And people always try to get me to dance.” He’s frowning now, as he studies the wall behind Neil where Morgan’s _still_ taping flyers. “I hate dancing.”

“I know.” He’s seen Shaun decline people more times than he can count, but sometimes he’ll give in and agree (mostly when it comes to Claire). “But I promise, if I’m right there, I will warn off anyone who tries to harass you – whether about dancing or anything else.”

“You don’t have to promise. I believe you because you have done that before.”

Neil’s done it _many_ times before, in fact. They haven’t been to any events in the two and a half months since they ‘revealed’ their relationship (because the only one had been the banquet that _Shaun_ suggested they skip). However, in the past year, they’ve gone to around a dozen events and they naturally tend to gravitate towards each other (until people begin separately demanding their attention, or Marcus inevitably swoops in, deciding their talents are best spent with two separate groups instead of together).

Neil supposes he could have been more forceful in the past about wanting to stay with Shaun, but he hadn’t for two reasons: first, Shaun had never protested when Marcus split them up, so Neil figured he shouldn’t, either. And second, it hadn’t felt like his _place_ to say anything. Sure, they’re friends, but he’d never wanted to overstep and try to control what Shaun did, or who he spent his time with. Shaun doesn’t need his protection, but from his reaction earlier, it’s clear that he  _wants_ it. And it's making Neil think he should have made his feelings on the subject known to Marcus (to _Shaun_ ) a while ago.

“Helping you,” Neil slowly tells Shaun, “when we’re at one of those events…which we both happen to dislike? It’s the least I can do.”

Shaun switches seats so he’s no longer across from Neil, but in the seat next to him at the table. “The ‘least you can do’ is more than anyone else has done, when…” His sentence fades, but Neil hears the end of it: _When they’re at those kinds of things_. Neil isn’t entirely sure why, but people who know Shaun (even those who know him _well_ ) often seem to forget his boundaries when they’re outside of the hospital. (He suspects it’s some combination of alcohol, a more carefree atmosphere, and the change in Shaun himself.) But even though Shaun has a certain kind of more open, more welcoming persona that he’s learned to turn on, when needed, that doesn’t mean he’s _ever_ comfortable with crowded environments or the increased social demands on him.

And the people who work with them should _know_ that; it frustrates Neil to no end when their actions speak to the complete opposite.

“People should show you more consideration,” Neil says, expression darkening. He looks away, solely so Shaun doesn’t see how much it bothers him. The rest of the cafeteria is starting to clear out as the afternoon wanes on and people finish their lunches.

A hand sliding over his drags Neil’s attention back to Shaun, or more specifically, to his hand. _Their_ hands, rather, since Shaun has set his on top of Neil’s, where he’s been absently resting his forearm on the table.

“It’s okay,” Shaun says. Neil has _no_ idea what’s okay, so it’s a good thing Shaun clarifies with, “That people don’t understand. Because I understand.”

“…What do you understand?” (Neil’s having a difficult time thinking straight, for some reason.)

“That no one means me any harm. They don’t mean to cause me discomfort. Or anxiety. People like to touch each other, their friends and family. It is… _me_ who is different. Not them.”

Neil feels his frustration growing. “That doesn’t mean that it’s okay to ignore your preferences. No one has the right to –”

“You are thinking of it the wrong way,” Shaun says, pressing his hand more firmly down on Neil’s. “It is one thing if they did it on purpose, to upset me. But they don’t. There is a difference between people forgetting and people wanting to show affection. Or comfort.”

Neil studies their hands, thinks he should pull away, but instead finds himself turning his own hand over so he can hold onto Shaun’s, in return. “Comfort, huh?”

“Yes,” Shaun says. “I do not want you to be upset on my behalf. Certainly not when _I_ do not get upset. I might get uncomfortable with others, but I do not get upset when their intentions are good.”

Neil thinks about that, about how easily it reconciles with what he knows of Shaun’s incredibly forgiving nature; Shaun’s insanely practical, but whenever there’s an option, he chooses to see the best in people, and that positive outlook is something Neil has found himself adopting more often, the more time they spend together. 

And Shaun is  _telling_ him that he doesn't want Neil to get upset about this, so…Neil breathes in through his unhappiness, and then he exhales, letting it go.

“See?” Shaun’s smiling at him. “Touching people helps. You are much calmer now.”

Neil doesn’t tell him that just being _around_ Shaun makes him calmer (touching him simply magnifies an effect that’s already present). “Is this going in your research paper?”

It takes Shaun a few seconds to remember what Neil’s referencing – that day a few months earlier when Neil had joked that Shaun should log Neil’s reactions every time Shaun touched him. “I suppose it should. I am generally not a fan of casually touching people, however, I know it has a multitude of benefits. I have read numerous research studies.”

“Careful, Shaun,” Neil warns. “One day you might even start to _enjoy_ it.”

Shaun only seems confused. “I already do. With…the right people.”

Neil pauses, considering that he must be one of those so-called ‘right’ people, and he doesn’t know how to respond to that. So he grips Shaun’s hand and tries to understand his abrupt urge to press a kiss to the back of it.

The overwhelming, uncanny feeling of being watched has him turning to find Morgan next to their table again, and he barely stops himself from reacting.

“Staff meeting in ten minutes,” she crisply reminds them. “I don’t want you two to be late…no matter how much I hate to interrupt this Hallmark moment in the making.”

“You’re extremely lucky you transferred off my team,” Neil tells her, mildly.

“That’s me.” Morgan presses her fingers to her temple in clear jest. “Always thinking a mile ahead.”

“We’ll be at the meeting,” Shaun informs her, letting go of Neil’s hand. And Neil feels a sense of loss that he can’t even begin to explain. Perhaps Shaun senses it, since before Neil can start questioning his illogical reaction, Shaun moves his hand up and wraps it around his elbow. Then his resident tells Morgan, “You changed your design.”

Neil turns to see what Shaun’s talking about – she’d rearranged all the posters to make an enormous ‘15’ on the wall.

“This way,” she tells them, “no one will forget the date. It’s subliminal messaging. What do you think?”

“I think…” Shaun begins, “that you do not know what the word ‘subliminal’ means.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what it means. I was…exaggerating.”

“Then you don't know what the word ‘exaggerate’ means, either." He adds to Neil, in aside, “Perhaps dictionaries _aren’t_ a bad idea.”

“Who still uses dictionaries?” Morgan asks, mostly rhetorical. “What is this, the Stone Age?”

“Actually,” Shaun begins, “dictionaries only date to –”

“I'm out of here,” she says, talking right over him, then walks away while yelling, “Remember, twenty-three days!”

“Well done,” Neil commends him, but Shaun’s already turned his attention back to the flyers on the wall.

“It will not be that bad,” he says quietly, and Neil isn’t sure which one of them he’s trying to convince more.

“We’ll be together,” Neil assures him.

“That sounds…better,” Shaun nods, turning back to him, radiating contentment. “Since we began this…a _lot_ of things are better.”

Neil leans slightly into him, where Shaun’s still holding onto his arm. “I happen to agree, Murphy.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say that any hesitation, any reservations he might have had about their arrangement have finally been put to rest. (But he can’t say that, because he’d never had any to begin with.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, their holiday gala! And I have serious issues limiting myself (shocking to hear, I know) because this is only part 1 of it!
> 
> As always, love you guys and your encouragement, it keeps me going! <3

“We are twenty-four minutes late.”

“I know, Murphy,” Neil says, as their driver stops the car in front of the hotel that’s hosting their annual holiday gala. He’d debated taking his own car, but after an overnight shift and the possibility of having a drink or five at the gala ( _who knows how many he’ll need to get through this evening_ ) he’s not about to risk driving home later. He pulls up the app to give the driver a perfect score and tip her generously while Shaun rounds the car. “And do you want to know _how_ I know?” Neil asks, as an afterthought. “It’s because you’ve been keeping me updated on _exactly how late we are_ since 7:01.”

It’s like Shaun doesn’t even register Neil’s exasperation. “Twenty- _five_ minutes.”

“It’s a fundraiser,” Neil points out. “Not a meeting.”

“You are late to plenty of those, as well,” Shaun says, absently pulling at the tie he’s wearing that Neil had lent him. He’d tried telling Shaun he didn’t have to wear one (since he clearly disliked them so much), but Shaun had gone off onto some tangent about the ‘image he presented to the world’, followed by an actual _history_ of formal wear. (Neil had decided to give up once he hit the early 1900’s.)

“Look around.” Neil gestures at the steps in front of them, full of people meandering their way into the Ritz-Carlton, and then at the line of cars at the nearby valet stand. “We’re far from the last people to arrive.”

“That does not make us any more on time. It simply makes all these other people late, too.”

“Arriving fashionably late is a thing, haven’t you heard of it?”

“Yes,” Shaun says, a world of disapproval in that single word, as they make their way up the stairs to the main entrance. “I don’t like it.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” Neil claims.

“Twenty-five and a half minutes.”

“Keep it up and I’ll ditch you here,” Neil warns. “Leave you to the likes of Morgan and Andrews all on your own.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Can you at least _pretend_ like my threats still have an effect on you? Or is that too much to ask?”

“It is too much to ask,” Shaun affirms, though he’s smiling by now.

“I needed extra time to get ready,” Neil insists. “You were there, you saw! None of my dress shirts looked right.”

“Everything you tried on was presentable,” Shaun counters.

“ _Presentable_ ,” Neil blandly repeats. “You sure know how to flatter me, Murphy. And you wondered why it was so hard for me to settle on anything.”

“I am not trying to flatter you,” Shaun informs him, frowning. “I am telling you that you were wrong in your self-assessment of your wardrobe. And wrong about why you were overly critical of it.”

Neil’s too confused to keep up the argument. “What do you mean?”

“You were stalling.”

“Because I didn’t want to attend the gala,” Neil agrees. “You somehow figured out exactly what I’ve been saying for _weeks_.”

“No,” Shaun says, as an attendant opens the doors for them and they step into the lobby. “That is not why; you were stalling because you don’t want Dr. Andrews to think he can control you.”

Neil twists his head to look at Shaun so sharply that he feels a twinge of pain. “What?”

“Or Morgan,” Shaun adds. “You do not want either of them to think their threats are effective. By deliberately arriving late, you have made your point while still fulfilling the obligations of your job.”

Neil doesn’t know what he’s feeling at that moment, but he knows it’s distinctly unsettling – because Shaun putting it neatly into words has alerted Neil to the fact that it’s _exactly_ what he’s been doing. _And he hadn’t consciously known it_. How could Shaun possibly…

Neil shakes his head to try and clear it, asking irritably, “Since when did you become a psychiatrist?”

“I am not a psychiatrist,” Shaun says slowly. “I just…know you.”

“Better than I know myself?”

Shaun’s obviously surprised. “You were unaware of your own motivations?”

“I…” Neil’s at a genuine loss before admitting, “Yes.”

“I thought you were only pretending not to know.” He seems to shrug it off, reaching over to lift Neil’s wrist and check his watch (which Neil knows is to make a point because Shaun has an uncannily accurate internal clock). “Twenty-eight minutes.”

Neil abruptly laughs, which is at least partly in relief at the sudden subject change. “We’re here, Shaun. We’re literally in the building.”

“We are in the lobby. Not in the ballroom itself.”

They’d been dropped off at the separate event entrance, which meant they were able to avoid any hotel guests, and Neil recognizes most of the people he’s seen so far – fellow colleagues and donors alike. (He’s mostly surprised that neither Andrews nor Reznick has descended upon them yet.)

“We’re still _here_ ,” Neil informs him, as they begin heading in the direction everyone else is going, presumably towards the main ballroom of the hotel. “That should count.”

Shaun tilts his head from side to side, apparently in thought, before declaring, “It does not.”

Neil stops in the middle of the lobby which causes Shaun to stop, too; they’re inconveniencing people who now have to detour around them, but Neil doesn’t care. “I feel like you’re going to argue _anything_ I say at this point.”

“I am not,” Shaun protests.

“Ha!” Neil snaps his fingers. “Was that an argument?”

“…No?”

Neil leans in a little. “Careful, I think that’s another one.”

Shaun’s only response is to huff in annoyance and start walking again; Neil catches up to him in three strides, because despite Shaun’s repeated complaints, he doesn’t seem to be in any _actual_ hurry to reach the gala (and Neil can’t blame him, because he’s not, either).

“Walking away in the middle of a disagreement means that I win by default,” Neil can’t help goading.

“All it means is that I am done listening to you,” Shaun counters haughtily.

“Not buying it, Murphy. Besides, think of how boring your life would be without me around to harass – I mean, challenge you.”

“Peaceful,” Shaun says lightly, his tone revealing he’s aware Neil’s ‘slip’ had been intentional. “My life would be peaceful.” (And Neil doesn’t miss it’s the kind of joke he _himself_ always makes, so Shaun’s just turning it around on him.)

“And boring,” Neil reiterates.

Shaun glances away, which Neil is 97% certain is to hide his smile. “It might be…slightly duller,” he concedes. “Without you.”

“I might just happen to feel the same,” Neil admits, in an offering of truce that isn’t actually needed. (They’re both well-aware of how the other feels, by now.)

Shaun doesn’t look at him, but he brushes the back of his hand against Neil’s – and while anyone who happened to witness it would view it as innocuous (or more likely an accident) Neil knows it’s not. Shaun has very clear and defined boundaries; other people might touch him occasionally (and he mostly puts up with it), but he never initiates contact with anyone unless he _wants_ to. That means the gesture had been deliberate, meant to acknowledge what Neil said, and perhaps more importantly, signal his agreement.

Neil’s interpretation of the fleeting gesture occurs without conscious thought – it’s more something he inherently knows. And it’s not until after the fact that he realizes he has no idea _how_ he knows it, but the fact remains that he _does_. Before he can dwell on it, though, they ‘officially’ arrive at the gala (as Shaun makes sure to point out), stepping into the grand ballroom at 7:30 exactly.

They stop just inside the doors, slightly out of the way of guests continuing to enter. It’s the largest venue Neil’s ever seen for an event thrown by their hospital, and it’s exquisitely decorated in reds and greens, golds and silvers – hints of every holiday light up the entire space. An oversized bar occupies one end of the room and at the other end is an elevated stage area; bracketed in between is a dance floor and dozens of artfully arranged tables. The room’s maybe half full already, and Neil’s seen the guest list (more like Marcus agonized with him over it many a night while Neil nodded along, pretending to listen to his problems), so he knows there are plenty more people on the way.

Memories of past events come rushing back to him: the falsely cheerful and upbeat persona he has to maintain the entire time; endless rounds of small talk on the _same topics_ over and over again; the relentless assault from Andrews and any other members of the board who feel like throwing him at donors they can’t particularly stand just so _they_ can avoid them; and, worst of all, the knowledge that he’s essentially trapped here for hours without reprieve until the clock finally ticks over to an hour where it’s acceptable for him to make a polite exit.

It all seems overwhelming, right then, and he turns to Shaun, expecting him to be having a similar (or worse) reaction. To his surprise, though, Shaun doesn’t look miserable. In fact, he looks the exact _opposite_ of miserable. He seems almost in awe as he takes in the shimmering display of the room – _festive, indeed_. And Neil takes _him_ in, the way he’s obviously impressed by the venue and the decorations, which are much more opulent than at any event they’ve been to since Shaun began working at Saint Bonaventure. (Their gala last year had been an event in and of itself, but nothing of this magnitude.) Witnessing Shaun’s delight at their surroundings is much more enjoyable than Neil’s automatically cynical thoughts, that’s for sure.

“What is wrong?” Shaun asks, without tearing his eyes away from the glittering garland strung up around the room.

“I… What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“You are tense.”

“I’m not tense,” Neil mutters…rather tensely. _Time for another subject change_. “Don’t wander off, Murphy. I’d never find you again.” (He’s not sure if he entirely means it as a joke.)

“You do not have to worry,” Shaun says, reaching up to touch one of the hundreds of ornaments that are hanging from the ceiling. “ _I_ would find _you_.”

(And just like that, a significant amount of Neil’s tension dissipates.)

Instead of examining his reaction to Shaun’s promise too closely, Neil makes a show of checking his watch. “I can’t believe we’ve been here for two whole minutes and no one has bothered us yet. Did we wander into the wrong event?”

“You do not recognize anyone here?”

“It was a joke.”

Shaun seems skeptical. “Was it?”

“I know this game. This is where you pretend you don’t find me hilarious when we both know that you do.”

Shaun’s expression betrays nothing. “Do I?”

Neil can’t help laughing, and for the life of him, he has no idea why he was so disillusioned only a few minutes before. (How could he forget, even for a moment, how much _better_ everything is when Shaun is with him?)

“You are so lucky that you’re both here,” Morgan hisses, striking without warning like the viper she is, though she keeps her voice down as if she cares about propriety. (Neil’s amazed that her eyes shooting daggers at them don’t actually draw blood.) “I was _thisclose_ to issuing a city-wide APB.”

“Dial it down, Reznick,” Neil tells her. “And maybe cut back on the crime shows. This isn’t _Law & Order: San Jose_.”

“She has no authority to issue an APB,” Shaun tells Neil, like Morgan isn’t standing right next to them.

“You both underestimate how many friends I have,” she says scathingly. “But feel free to go ahead and test me.”

That actually gives Neil pause, because he wouldn’t put something like that past her. Park might be the most _likely_ to have contacts, but he at least has scruples and (probably) wouldn’t abuse that kind of power – even if Neil deserved it. Morgan, on the other hand? She’d do it without thinking twice and then gloat about it forever afterwards.

“Why are you thirty-three minutes late?” she’s asking, though she needn’t bother, because her tone reveals she’s already made up her mind that no reason will be good enough to explain away their lateness.

“Murphy took his time getting ready,” Neil says, throwing him under the bus without thinking twice about it.

“Nooo…” Shaun draws that word out to an uncomfortable degree, and Neil remembers too late that Shaun knows the real reason he’d delayed, so blaming him probably isn’t the best call. All Shaun does, though, is complain, “It was _Neil_ who had to try on eight different shirts. Nothing made him happy.” (Neil’s impressed, because Shaun’s somehow turned things around on him with the _truth_ , imagine that.)

“You look the same to me as you always do,” Morgan’s saying, apparently unimpressed.

“You mean stylish, as always?” Neil asks smartly, as Morgan rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. “That’s the point and it’s harder than you’d think.”

“Yeah, I feel so sorry for you,” Morgan says acidically. “You men _really_ have it difficult when it comes to dressing for events like this.”

Shaun completely misses her sarcasm. “Then you understand why we were late. However, I maintain that Neil’s concern was unnecessary. Every shirt looked fine.”

“At least he put in the effort, Murphy,” Morgan snipes. “Not all of us are content with letting someone else do all the work.” She looks him up and down. “He took you to his tailor didn’t he?”

Shaun seems to be debating the wisdom of answering before he admits, “…Yes.”

Her eyes are growing sharper by the moment as she scrutinizes Shaun’s clothes. “And that tie is designer. You could probably afford it, but you’re far too practical to spend that much money on something…frivolous.”

“I’m _borrowing_ it,” Shaun says, though it’s a futile attempt at derailing her current track.

She rounds on Neil with a knowing smile. “How rich _are_ you, Dr. Melendez?”

“Very,” he says, in a tone that would have deterred _anyone except her_.

“You should be aware that your attractiveness level just increased ten-fold.”

Neil thinks she’s kidding, but he can’t be entirely sure (and he’d rather not dwell on the disconcerting thought).

Before he can switch topics, she’s turning back to Shaun with a sly look. “I’m impressed, Murphy. Turns out you _do_ make some decisions that I approve of, after all.”

When Shaun casts him an unsure glance, Neil explains, “She’s insinuating – no, make that outright saying that you’re with me for my money.”

Shaun clearly considers that ludicrous. “That is the last reason I would be in a relationship with anyone.”

She ignores the protest and runs her fingers down the length of Shaun’s tie. “Make sure you take full advantage.” She lowers her voice, though deliberately not enough. “I can give you some pointers later, if you want.”

“Do not listen to _anything_ she says about relationships,” Neil orders Shaun, then sets his sights on Morgan. “Some people have morals, Reznick. Unlike you.”

“Yeah, yeah, money has nothing to do with it. You two are just sickeningly in love, I get it.” She sounds mildly offended at merely having to utter the words. “Believe me, we _all_ get it.”

Neil shifts uncomfortably at her summation, and that’s when Claire _glides_ (there’s no better word for it) into the room and up to their group, greeting them all.

“Claire is four minutes later than we were,” Shaun tells Morgan. “Are you going to berate her, as well?”

“Do you know how long it took me to get ready?” Claire laments.

“My point, exactly,” Morgan says, in a show of solidarity the likes of which used to be pretty rare (though Neil has noticed they tend to stick together more often than not, lately). “We have more of an excuse than you two did.”

“Men have it so unfair,” Claire agrees, managing to turn a simple phrase into something accusatory. “How long did it take you guys to get ready?”

“Aside from Neil’s eight wardrobe changes?” Shaun asks brightly, neatly sidestepping when Neil attempts to elbow him in the side.

“Let me guess, you showered and got dressed,” Morgan says. “I’m going to say it took you ten minutes, tops.” Before Shaun can protest, she adds, “Melendez’s fastidiousness notwithstanding.”

“That sounds accurate,” Shaun nods. “What did it take you? A half hour?”

Claire shuts her eyes and shakes her head.

“Too high?” he ventures, and Morgan actually looks pained at that question.

“Hours,” Morgan corrects, lightly twirling a few strands of hair. “That’s hours, _plural_. Showering, shaving, hair, make-up, jewelry, actually getting dressed…” She sighs heavily as Claire pats her on the shoulder in commiseration.

“You both look lovely,” Neil informs them, as they graciously thank him, and his compliment is quite the understatement to both of them. They’re pictures of perfection (and while he’d gladly have said as much to Claire, he’d never speak that word in relation to Morgan because she’d enjoy it too much).

The blonde’s hair is down in loose golden waves that she makes sure to artfully flip quite often. She’s wearing a fairly conservative fitted red dress (the color of blood, Neil absently notes, which she most likely chose on purpose) and it flares at the waist and makes her look as guileless and innocent as she _isn’t_. She’s a stark contrast to Claire, whose gown is ice blue and markedly lacier and fancier, with a lot more fabric. Morgan’s obviously going for sleek and professional, with a bold color to catch as many eyes as possible. Claire, meanwhile, is somewhere in the realm of Disney princess, with her hair upswept to show off sparkling earrings – her dress somehow matches her personality, perfectly. Neil knows she _loves_ these things, secret romantic that she is.

“I agree.” Shaun’s nodding at Neil’s pronouncement. “You both look beautiful. Your routines were well-worth it.”

“Are you saying I don’t normally look beautiful?” Morgan scolds, but she’s clearly thrilled with the flattering attention from both men by the way she’s slightly preening.

Claire flicks her lightly on the arm. “What she means to say is: _Thank you, Shaun_.”

“Sure, yeah, thanks,” Morgan mutters, as she makes an excessive show of rubbing her arm and scowling at Claire. “Now, which one of these eligible bachelors should I go after first?”

“Where is your date?” Shaun asks, and the question has Neil vaguely recalling Morgan mentioning something about that a few weeks back.

Morgan doesn’t look at any of them, opting to fold her arms and stare off towards the dance floor. “Trust that you’d remember that.”

“I remember almost everything,” Shaun needlessly reminds them. “You told us fifteen days ago that you were –”

“I got it,” she snaps. “He couldn’t make it.”

Shaun won’t be (or doesn’t realize he _should be_ ) deterred. “Our holiday fundraiser has been scheduled for over two months.”

Morgan’s voice is rather brittle when she grits out, “He couldn’t make it because his wife would have frowned upon it.”

Silence falls for exactly five seconds before Shaun breaks it. “You were dating a married man? That is not conducive to a long-term relationship for you and him.” He pauses. “Or him and his wife.”

“You _think_?”

“Why would –”

“I didn’t know,” Morgan cuts him off, growing increasingly agitated (not that Neil can blame her). “He lied to me. He’s a _liar_.” She narrows her focus on Neil and Shaun. “You two are men. Why are all men liars?”

Claire’s scoffing laughter immediately draws Morgan’s attention. “Lying is hardly gender-specific. You lie more than everyone else I know – _combined_.”

“I lie to you people!” Morgan exclaims, waving a hand dismissively. “That barely counts.”

Morgan’s question about lying has settled uneasily somewhere in Neil. He’s never felt like he and Shaun were ‘lying’ to their friends and colleagues about their relationship, but if he’s being painfully honest, he has to admit that just because it doesn’t _feel_ that way doesn’t mean it’s not _exactly what they’re doing_.

“Sometimes people lie for…good reasons,” Shaun says carefully, glancing at Neil. (And he wonders if Shaun feels anything similar to what he’s feeling right now.)

“I suppose, in his mind, trying to keep me and his wife from finding out about each other was a good reason,” Morgan mutters darkly. “Not that it matters. I decided that tonight would be better if I were my _own_ date. After all, there’s no one I’d rather spend the entire evening with than myself.”

Shaun tilts his head in thought. “So…you could not find anyone else willing to accompany you?”

Morgan’s smile vanishes and she says, condescendingly, “It’s not as easy for everyone as asking their boss, Murphy.”

“I don’t know,” Claire’s smile is widening, “you could have asked Lim. She probably would have taken pity on you and said yes.”

“I _chose_ to come alone,” Morgan loudly insists. “I don’t need someone monopolizing my time at a networking opportunity like this.”

“I didn’t bring a date, either,” Claire says. “But that’s because I’m swearing off men for the foreseeable future. Until the new year, at least.”

“That is only two weeks away,” Shaun points out.

“Right,” Claire nods. “Don’t want to set unreasonable goals. I saw Alex earlier and he didn’t bring a date. I’m pretty sure Lim’s other residents came alone, too; there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Morgan’s entire act slips as she studies their group with disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me that _Murphy_ is the only one of us who managed to bring a date? And that’s because his date was more or less _obligated_?”

Neil realizes later than he should that it’s not a particularly flattering assessment of him _or_ Shaun, but before he can caustically dress her down for it, Shaun starts speaking.

“I’m sorry that your date was not…a good person,” Shaun says slowly, “and that it makes you angry with everyone else.” When Morgan’s temporarily stunned into silence, he takes the opportunity to add, “You deserve better.”

Morgan hesitantly glances among the three of them, like she’s waiting for one (or all) of them to say the punchline. When nothing comes, she drops her head and murmurs a surprisingly sincere, “Thanks, Shaun.”

Not for the first time, Neil considers that Shaun’s difficulty in reading others’ emotions often means that he can piece together their motivations better than people like Neil. Feelings rarely cloud his methods of logical reasoning, and he’s able to see things that others can easily miss. (Like the fact that someone lashing out doesn’t necessarily mean they’re upset with the people they’re attacking…but hurting because of something else, entirely.)

This time, Neil’s the one who reaches over, brushing his fingers along the back of Shaun’s wrist in quiet appreciation. Shaun says nothing, doesn’t even glance his way, but he moves a half-step closer in response.

Morgan regroups relatively quickly, eyes returning to their usual sharpness with hints of barely-veiled threats. “Now, I’m off to the bar. And you two,” she points at Neil and Shaun, “my watch does not end simply because you deigned to make an appearance. You’re to stay until at least 11. Not my orders, that’s straight from Andrews himself. And I _will_ hunt you down if you disappear. Mark my words.” She links arms with Claire (who’s smiling apologetically) and then almost forcibly drags her away.

“That was a fun lecture,” Neil mutters, then raises his voice. “I’d say I’m going for a drink, but no way in hell am I following her over there. Best wait until the coast is clear. If we’re lucky, maybe we can avoid Marcus, too. I haven’t seen –” He falters at the way he’s clearly lost Shaun’s attention.

His resident motions for him to turn around, which is when he comes face to face with Marcus, who’d been creepily lurking behind him, apparently.

“Look who somehow made it to an actual fundraiser!” Marcus slaps Neil on the back. “I had my doubts, I’ll admit, but I knew with Morgan on the case, odds were good you’d be here.” His expression turns more stern. “Late though you are.”

“You should be glad we showed up at all,” Neil informs him.

“Glad to hear it,” Marcus says cheerfully, which means he hadn’t heard a word Neil said and was merely waiting for a pause to keep talking. “Jessica was looking for you, Neil. She’s over by the bar with Aaron. And Shaun, one of our regular benefactors brought her sister this evening, and the good news is she’s just as wealthy!” He sets a hand on Shaun’s shoulder, turning him in the opposite direction. “They’ve been asking about you since they got here, so if you’ll come with me –”

“No,” Shaun says, dropping his shoulder so Marcus loses his hold, and takes a step back, which is (not coincidentally) in Neil’s direction.

“No?” Andrews sounds completely baffled, unable to comprehend what he’s hearing.

“No,” Shaun repeats firmly.

Marcus spares Neil an accusatory look, as if Shaun’s refusal is somehow his fault (though Neil supposes that’s fair…because technically it is). “What do you mean ‘no’, Murphy?”

Shaun doesn’t answer and the disappointed set of his mouth makes it clear that he’s none too pleased with their boss.

That’s when Neil decides to jump in and answer the question instead (he’s always prided himself on his great sense of timing). “I’m no linguist,” he says thoughtfully, amusement growing when Marcus narrows his eyes, “but I _think_ ‘no’ means the opposite of ‘yes’.”

Andrews’ tone is clipped when he issues a sharp, “Neil.”

Shaun takes a deliberate step to his left, putting himself directly between the two men, and Neil knows (just like touching him earlier) that the move is no accident; it effectively interrupts the way he and Marcus have been staring at each other, so their boss has no choice but to redirect his focus to Shaun.

“You promised you would not try to separate us,” Shaun reminds him. “Yet we have been here for –”

“Fourteen minutes,” Neil interjects (even though Shaun likely already knows).

“– and you are already trying to do just that.”

Neil inwardly sighs at Marcus’s visible confusion, recognizing it’s not an act (Marcus is terrible at that, on the few occasions he attempts it). “You have no memory of this?”

It takes the other man a few more seconds to catch up. “ _That’s_ what this is about? I’d completely forgotten – I’ve had maybe ten thousand conversations since then.”

Shaun’s already shaking his head. “That is statistically improb–”

“Did I ask you to evaluate the possibility of my claim?”

“It is still improbable.”

Marcus must reconsider his strategy of trying to argue, instead saying, “I didn’t realize you were that serious about it.”

Shaun carefully glances at Neil before informing Marcus, “ _I_ am serious.” (And the way he says it… It’s as if he’s not quite sure that he’s interpreted things accurately. Or maybe he fears Neil has changed his mind, altogether.)

“ _We_ are serious,” Neil corrects, placing significant emphasis on that first word, more as a confirmation for Shaun than a warning for Marcus. Shaun doesn’t look at him again, but Neil can practically _feel_ the way his resident relaxes upon hearing that.

“In that case,” Marcus tells them, “ _both_ of you come with me. Forget Jess, she can wait.” He risks a quick look towards the bar, maybe checking to see if she’s watching them. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Scared of her?” Neil taunts.

“Like you’re not?” Marcus throws back at him.

“Of course not.” When Marcus only stares at him, and Shaun doesn’t react (which means he’s equally disbelieving), Neil mutters, “Except for when she’s intentionally being scary.”

“Knew it,” Marcus says, gloating about being right, in his generally insufferable way.

“It’s fine,” Neil insists. “If she gets upset with me later for skipping past her, I’ll do what I always do – blame Shaun.” At Shaun’s look of reproval, he adds, “You’ll protect me from her, right?”

“No,” Shaun says succinctly, without missing a beat.

“I am loving this relationship more and more,” Marcus smirks at Shaun, purposely ignoring Neil glowering at him. “I’ve been waiting _years_ for someone – other than me – to remind Melendez that the world doesn’t revolve around him. Never thought it’d be you, Murphy, but I have to say you’re better at it than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Neil would throw back a witty quip (if he had time to think of one), but Marcus strides off the next moment, apparently feeling confident in the fact that Neil and Shaun will dutifully follow him. And after a shared glance, they do. Because _this is their job_ (and even if it weren’t, Neil knows how much this means to Shaun, and that reason alone would have had him _volunteering_ for nights like this).

Thus begins a seemingly neverending whirlwind of circling the room, with Marcus bringing them from group to group. They know some of the people already from past events (and of those they haven’t met yet, Marcus keeps assuring them beforehand that these people are all very influential and powerful and wealthy and _don’t you dare screw this up for me, Melendez_ ). Neil bristles every time he’s singled out, complaining that it’s hardly fair given his track record of securing donations, but he knows it’s just Marcus being Marcus – their boss hardly knows what to do with himself around Neil if he’s not antagonizing him in _some_ way. (And besides that, Neil’s always suspected Marcus likes Shaun a lot more than he likes Neil, and tonight is simply proving it.)

All of their co-workers know about Neil and Shaun’s ‘relationship’ by now, but few of the other guests are aware. One benefit of Marcus dragging them around the room is that their department head has no qualms about introducing them as partners; Neil’s relieved about that, because it’s not something most people are willing to ask (if they suspect it), nor is it something he wants to figure out how to drop into casual conversation. (And it strikes him at one point that he never much cared if people knew about him and Jess, but he _wants_ people to know about him and Shaun for the exact same reasons that he’d wanted everyone at the hospital to know: if it makes Shaun’s night even incrementally easier – causing people to reevaluate before getting too close or doing anything that might potentially make him uncomfortable – then Neil will have accomplished what he wanted to.)

Their circle tends toward the socially progressive, and everyone accepts Marcus’s introductions in stride. A few eyes widen a little in slight surprise, mostly of the oldest generation present, but no one actually _cares_ , which Neil finds truly refreshing. In fact, the reactions mostly go the _other_ way – he loses count of how many people make comments that indicate they’d somehow thought (or ‘ _known_ ’) that Neil and Shaun were together at past events they’d attended. Neil wants to be surprised about that, but the truth is, he’d gotten used to it long ago – his colleagues and their subsequent (mostly _lack of_ ) reactions to their relationship had more than prepared him (and Shaun) for people already thinking they were together.

There’s no dinner at tonight’s event, because Marcus had learned that lesson a few years earlier: when people spend half the evening eating an elaborate dinner, they get tired; when they get tired, they stick to their own tables and rarely mingle; and when they rarely mingle, it’s exponentially harder to get any money out of them – Neil still remembers the first fundraiser Marcus had spearheaded, because he’d seated Neil next to him ( _just to make sure Neil suffered, probably_ ) and then proceeded to complain for almost the entire night about how people weren’t interacting like he wanted them to and that he was never going to serve them a 4-course meal again. And he hasn’t since.

(Those were also the long, dark days before Shaun worked with them, and looking back, Neil has no idea how he got through even _one_ event without him, never mind the hundred plus that he knows he did.)

What they _do_ have tonight is an open bar and over a dozen waitstaff constantly circulating throughout the room with trays of appetizers; anyone who’d skipped dinner before coming would truly struggle to go hungry tonight. In fact, people are already starting to settle into smaller groups at some of the tables to converse or take breaks while enjoying the food and drinks.

The tables also serve as a convenient area to relax during the speeches. Yes, _speeches_. Neil has long-campaigned for Marcus to ditch them, but it’s a futile endeavor, because Marcus will never skip an opportunity to congratulate himself on a job well done in planning their night (which is what his ‘introductions’ of the other speakers always turns into).

To Neil, speeches are the event equivalent of tedious mandatory meetings and he despises them to no end. At least Marcus took pity on him this time and didn’t demand he give one – though to be fair, when the other man hinted around at it a few weeks prior, Neil threatened to skip the gala entirely, numerous threats from Andrews and Morgan be damned. What Marcus doesn’t know is that Neil would never do that for one reason: Shaun relies on him at these things, he always has, even before they agreed to fake a relationship, so Neil would never abandon him to his own devices. Marcus probably suspects that’s the case, but he’s not yet aware of how deep Neil’s compulsion to protect Shaun goes, so until he figures it out, Neil’s going to keep using his refusal to participate as a threat. (And once Marcus does figure it out? Well, Neil will find a new threat after that.)

After Marcus kicks off the speeches by welcoming everyone (along with somehow expertly asking for a round of applause for himself – _and getting it_ ), Glassman gives the first speech. He profusely thanks the attendees and talks about the history of their hospital, sounding proud enough that anyone in the room might be forgiven for thinking he founded it himself. After their president, a veritable parade of speakers, each more boring than the last, takes the stage. One reads directly from note cards for seventeen minutes. _Seventeen minutes_. (He might as well have dosed all their drinks with Ambien, for the effect it has on the crowd.)

A half hour into the ‘how-long-can-we-bore-our-attendees’ portion of the evening, Neil finds that he’s mostly watching Shaun and not anyone up on the slightly elevated stage.

Shaun is riveted as he follows along, and suddenly Neil doesn’t care about what anyone is saying; he cares about what Shaun is _thinking_. How can he be so interested in such monotonous speeches? It’s something he’s always wondered, but tonight he decides to try and figure it out – he moves his chair closer to Shaun and starts whispering comments about how sleep-inducing the speakers are. As he’d expected, Shaun takes it as invitation to respond, thereby revealing why he’s so fascinated with the endless speeches they’re being forced to listen to: he remarks on things he did or didn’t know, topics he finds interesting, and even makes corrections – a date wrong here, a name mispronounced there. After that, Neil enjoys the speeches a whole lot more. (Shaun’s commentary is much more entertaining than any of the people up on stage, by far.)

Inevitably, the speeches end and mingling continues. As the evening wears on, Neil finds himself relaxing more as he (and more importantly, Shaun) settles in. He knows that no one looking at him would notice any difference from his usual charismatic self, but the fact is he _feels_ much different. With Shaun keeping him near-constant company, the evening gradually shifts from something he has to _get through_ to something tolerable to something…pleasant.

And then it moves even beyond that and starts to feel – dare he think it? – _fun_. As an example, when a long-time benefactor brings up a recent paper that details new advances in robotics to assist (or even complete) surgeries, no one in their current group has the in-depth knowledge to analyze the pros and cons with Neil…except Shaun, of course. And his resident jumps in without hesitation (turns out he has the paper virtually memorized) and the two of them have a spirited debate-that’s-not-really-a-debate because they both fundamentally believe the same things. (They have this unusual way of arguing wherein they both support the same point, despite approaching it from different angles.) _They_ know that, but it takes a while for everyone else to catch on, and once they do, the group devolves into laughter and Shaun’s smiling at him and –

Well. Yes. He’s _actually having fun_. Who would have ever thought?

Shaun is as quick with new people as he is with Neil himself. He’s gotten better at social gatherings over time, but Neil has never seen him at ease the way he is tonight. Neil has no idea if it’s his presence that’s helping Shaun remain comfortable or if Neil’s simply seeing him in a newfound (and more appreciative) light than ever before. Their communication is effortless – before long, Neil realizes that they’re finishing each other’s sentences without missing a beat, like the entire night is some kind of script they’ve both memorized and practiced before stepping foot into the building.

It’s _not_ , though. That’s what’s so amazing. And it’s what clues him in to the fact that he and Shaun have probably seemed like this for a long time now. (No wonder everyone thought they were together long before they actually…began to pretend that they were.)

Neil’s always been acutely aware that he’s popular (and it’s always helped his ego, tremendously), but Shaun… Shaun is _loved_. It’s a regular occurrence for people to fight for his attention in a group conversation; they fawn over his achievements, bringing up the airport incident and several high-profile cases that he’s gotten attention for since then; and his opinion is sought after by others in their field – people love to bring him their hardest cases, both past and present, to see if Shaun can figure out the issue it had taken them significant time to uncover, or ask if he can help them with current patients that are still baffling them (and 95% of the time, he does).

In the past, when Neil was a less secure version of himself, he might have been jealous that next to Shaun, he’s no longer the center of attention. But that’s not even _close_ to what he feels watching Shaun nowadays. No one has any _idea_ – with the exception of colleagues who have known Shaun since he first came to their hospital – how remarkable this is for Shaun, in the grand scheme of things. People see Shaun’s intelligence, his sharpness, his ability to put things together in a unique way that’s usually far more effective than the standards everyone else uses. What they don’t see is what he’s overcome to get to a place where he’s able to interact with others in a way that doesn’t cause him too much stress or anxiety. They don’t see the depth of deliberate effort Shaun has put into becoming more comfortable with people, into learning how to talk to them in the way that many take for granted as a natural skill.

Neil knows that most people assume socializing is easy and it’s Shaun’s vast array of knowledge that had been hard-fought for and won; they have no idea that Shaun’s world has mostly been the opposite. His intellect is a gift, and while learning had still been work for him, it was nowhere near as difficult as it was for the average person. It’s the social aspect of his life and his job that Shaun has grappled with. He’s come to Neil and Aaron and his friends for advice countless times; he’s carefully watched his co-workers interact with patients and their families; he’s methodically devised appropriate patterns and templates for the best ways to react to situations both common and extraordinary. It has taken _time_ and _work_ and _struggle_ to become this current version of himself, and while Shaun will never be fully at ease with it, nor will it ever come naturally to him…he’s reached a point where almost no one can tell either of those things. So watching him tonight, how sure he is of himself, how secure he is in his knowledge and his position, despite his personal dislike of these social situations – Neil has never been more proud of him.

Which he tells him, in an aside that no one can overhear, but Shaun’s pleased (and slightly embarrassed reaction) means their entire current group assumes Neil has said something of a more personal nature.

That, predictably, sets off another round of people telling them how ‘sweet’ they are together. Their relationship, to Neil’s surprise, has been a favorite topic of discussion among a lot of people. Neil had expected to feel uncomfortable about that, but in the end, he finds that…he doesn’t mind. He’d been half-joking that day in the breakroom, when he’d told Shaun that if people thought they were together, it would make Neil look better, but it’s _true_.

As it becomes clearer that Neil and Shaun are doing what they were very explicitly _ordered_ to do, Marcus occasionally gives them more space, no longer hovering in his overly suffocating manner. Morgan still circles them frequently, but her stares turn from vague warnings to something Neil is afraid to label borderline friendly (and he can only blame it on the fact that she’s had champagne in her hand for the entire evening). She joins their conversations from time to time, but not often, because she’s trying to ingratiate herself with every influential person in the room and thus has no time to stay for the lengthier discussions, such as the one where Shaun regales a group with the history of Magnetic Resonance Imaging, which segues into how integral research and development (and thus _money_ ) is to the advancement of modern medicine. (Neil swears Marcus _just_ stops himself from kissing Shaun for that, due to the quick agreement it draws from one in their current group, an actual _billionaire_ ; their boss settles for drawing Shaun in with a quick arm around his shoulders and praising him effusively – Shaun ducks his head but his brilliant smile informs everyone that he’s close to thrilled.)

He catches sight of his colleagues on and off throughout the evening. Glassman and Jess and Audrey all putting forth as much effort as he and Shaun are, but usually in different groups, because Marcus won’t let their combined talent become too focused in one area and is adept at guiding people this way and that wherever he sees fit. (They complain about it as much as Neil does, but the arguments he overhears are far more good-natured than Neil’s ever are.)

Neil’s hardly aware that over two hours have passed until Claire wanders over, face flushed with excitement and maybe close to as much champagne as Morgan’s consumed. He and Shaun have broken away from the main part of the crowd to get some drinks and appetizers.

“Shaun!” she exclaims, sounding like she’s beyond thrilled to have found him after searching her whole life. “Want to dance?”

“No. I do not feel like it.” He’s studying Neil while he answers – or more accurately, studying his tie. The next moment, he sets down his drink and plate of appetizers on a nearby table, then reaches over to fix said tie, apparently deeming it too crooked for his satisfaction.

“You never feel like it,” Claire laments, perilously close to whining.

Shaun shakes his head a little. “I don’t –”

“– like dancing,” Neil and Claire finish the sentence with him, at the same time.

She gives up on him quickly, turning hopefully to Neil. “Dr. Melendez?”

“Maybe later,” he says, smiling at her. “I think if I go out there with you right now, and not any of these ultra-wealthy donors I’ve been turning down for dances all evening, then Marcus might _actually_ take my office away and give it to Shaun.” (Which he’s been threatening to do all night, though in fairness the threats have slowly downgraded, now more of an ongoing joke, complete with Shaun describing every single way he’s going to redecorate in a manner he knows Neil despises the most.)

The _real_ reason Neil refuses (which Claire probably suspects) is that he doesn’t feel like leaving Shaun alone for that long. It won’t be just _one_ dance – it never would be with his colleagues. It’d start with Claire, but then every person he’s put off will ambush him (Jess and Audrey and a few others – and then Morgan would likely ask just for the hilarity of knowing he’d _rather be doing anything else_ ) and he’d be lucky to escape within a half hour. (And Claire must conclude that they’re a lost cause, since she takes off the next minute to go find a more willing partner.)

It’s not like he and Shaun have remained glued to each other’s sides, but for the first time at an event like this, they’ve managed to spend _most_ of the evening together. Having Shaun next to him is infinitely more enjoyable than whenever he’s not. Besides, Neil had promised that he’d ensure people left Shaun alone and he’s taken that seriously, no matter who the request came from, or what it entailed. Over a dozen people have inadvertently tried to split them up (their friends are unknowingly experts at it), with various requests to dance, or introduce them to other people, or any other number of random reasons that they claim they need Neil or Shaun’s separate attention. But Neil very adamantly _won’t let Shaun go_ , nor does he go off with anyone, either. It’s the least he owes Shaun after how enjoyable this gala is (which Neil increasingly thinks is a direct result of Shaun always being within touching distance).

That’s another thing he’s found himself doing tonight – touching Shaun a lot more. It’s a natural extension of the way they’ve become increasingly open with each other, but tonight it’s even _more_ than that. A brush of his hand here, a tap on his arm there. It’s reassuring, mostly, to reach out and know Shaun’s right next to him, know that _he’s okay_. Despite Shaun’s dislike of too many people and demands, too much noise and stress, he’s _right here_ and he’s okay; Neil doesn’t have to quietly wonder about it – _worry_ about it – like he has so many times before at these events, tuning out conversations with strangers while despising the fact that Shaun is nowhere in sight, that he’s _too far away_ for Neil to even see, never mind check on. Or reassure. Or _help_.

So maybe…maybe their arrangement tonight is doing as much for Neil as it is for Shaun. Because it’s not until that constant, restless unease is gone that Neil realizes how much it’s always affected him. He’s simply gotten used to it over time, accepted it as an inevitable part of these things, but…it’s not. _It doesn’t have to be._

As if Shaun’s reading his thoughts, he reaches for Neil’s tie again (it must be the sixth time tonight), and it’s no secret to Neil why he’s doing it: there’s always a low-level anxiety in Shaun around this many people (no matter how much of a successful front he puts up) and he’s been using Neil as his preferred coping strategy all evening. This is the second time ‘fixing’ his tie in as many minutes, though, so Neil feels a flare of concern. He sets his own plate down so he can put his hands over Shaun’s where he’s still fussing with his tie (that couldn’t get any straighter unless Shaun had a ruler on his person, somewhere).

“Are you alright?” Neil asks quietly.

Shaun doesn’t pull his hands away as he considers that question with unusual gravity. “Yes,” he finally says. “Things are better.”

As easily as that, Neil’s worry tamps down to a much more manageable degree (because it’ll never fully go away when it comes to Shaun, he knows that by now). Shaun’s words are an echo of the conversation they’d had in the cafeteria the first day Morgan had ‘reminded’ them about their mandatory appearance at the gala. There’s a difference, though, between _hoping_ tonight would be easier because they had each other, and actually _experiencing_ how remarkable it’s been.

To know that Shaun feels the same is… _everything_.

“Things are better,” Neil repeats, gripping Shaun’s hands lightly in reassurance before he releases them. “If I’d known how _much_ better it’d be, I’d have…” He trails off at the direction of his own thoughts and shakes his head in amusement, mostly at himself. “I’d have pretended to date you a long time ago.”

Shaun doesn’t say anything to that, but the way he smiles and pulls lightly at Neil’s tie one last time is more than enough indication that, when it comes to that sentiment, he overwhelmingly approves.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you like this gala, the good news is there'll be a third part! And for anyone curious about my current estimate for this story, I'd say like...9/10 chapters? (Sooo...15-20? ;)

“Four minutes.”

“Eight minutes,” Shaun counters.

“You are living in a dream world if you think Andrews is going to leave us alone for that long,” Neil scoffs, as he turns his chair to better oversee the ballroom. “In fact, I want to revise my guess; it was much too high. Two minutes.”

They’ve settled near the back wall to enjoy their appetizers and take a break from everyone; their table is set slightly apart from the rest and Neil can only guess that some people had deliberately moved it further back in order to have a private conversation. The room’s starting to get a little warm, so they’d draped their suit jackets over the backs of their chairs, and enough of the tables near them are occupied to the point that they have some cover.

They’re effectively hiding in plain sight. (Neil’s mastered that over the years.)

Still, he’s learned never to underestimate Marcus, which is why he’s fairly convinced their boss is going to seek them out sooner rather than later. That had led to the offhand bet he’d made with Shaun, speaking of which…

“Since I changed my guess, want to change yours? Seems only fair.”

“Mine was not a guess,” Shaun tells him, and if Neil’s not mistaken, he sounds somewhat  _insulted_ at such an insinuation. “It was a calculated estimate –”

“What’s another word for ‘estimate’?”

“You are throwing out numbers at random. Whereas I made…an estimated calculation –”

“Did you just switch the words around?” Neil rests an elbow on the table so he can prop his head on his hand. “In a futile attempt to talk around the fact that you’re _guessing_?”

Shaun raises his voice. “My _assessment_ is based on the group Dr. Andrews is currently speaking with.” He tips his head. “Over by the stage. Dr. Glassman is there, along with three other board members, and –”

“– the billionaire,” Neil finishes, having caught sight of the wealthy man Shaun had impressed earlier that night (he held a number of engineering patents, or something, and Morgan had been hovering around him all evening). “AKA Marcus’s favorite guest tonight; you’re right, Shaun, if there’s ever a group he’s reluctant to leave –”

“– it would be that one,” Shaun confirms. “What do I get when I win? You didn’t set any terms for our bet.”

“ _When_ you win, hmm?” Neil studies his plate, unable to decide what he should try first (he’s not even sure if he’ll be able to identify half of the things he’d grabbed before he tastes them). “Someone’s overly confident.”

“I am the perfect amount of confident.” He must notice Neil’s uncertainty since he starts pointing to foods and listing them off. “Vegetable spring rolls, mini-quiche with mushrooms, cheese and pear tartlets, bacon-wrapped quail –”

“ _Quail_?” Neil can’t decide if he should try that or skip it. “How do you know what everything is? I swear every food is wrapped in…six other kinds of food.” He holds up one of the (apparently quail-bacon) appetizers to illustrate his point.

“I listened when the servers explained what they were holding. You did not.”

 _Oh right_ , he’d been talking to Jessica. Or more like trying to _fend off_ Jessica, as she asked about his and Shaun’s ‘relationship’ ( _“Things must be going great if you two won’t leave each other’s side!”_ ) and when he’d finally gotten her off that uncomfortable topic, she’d started talking about her upcoming wedding. (It was a toss-up on which of those subjects he wanted to discuss less.) He’d only gotten away from her because Marcus had (almost literally) hauled her away, saying he needed her for…something Neil had instantly tuned out.

Marcus’s inability to leave any of them alone worked out in Neil’s favor for once – who’d have guessed? (And he might have said that out loud, which earned him a glare and a threat from their department head that he’d remember that when he circled back around and sought out _Neil specifically_ next time.)

That’s another reason Neil’s convinced his reprieve with Shaun will be short-lived – but that was also before Shaun pointed out that Marcus is preoccupied with one of the few people in this room he’ll have a difficult time stepping away from. (Which isn’t to say that he won’t do it, just that it’ll take him a few minutes longer, which consequently means Murphy is probably going to win the bet…not that Neil will admit as much.)

“What do you want _if_ you win?” He makes sure to stress that winning is not an inevitability (because hey, he can hope that he’ll best Shaun one of these days).

Shaun twists in his chair to face him more directly, appearing to give the matter serious thought. Neil takes advantage of the pause in conversation to try a few things on his plate and isn’t surprised to find that they’re all fantastic – even the foods he still can’t identify. (Give it to Marcus, if there’s one thing he excels at, it’s making sure every aspect of their evening is up to his impeccably high standards.)

“I have everything I want,” Shaun finally tells him, and the sincerity of his answer has Neil curbing his automatic reaction of making a joke in response.

“Everything?” He’s more than a little skeptical. “You can’t think of a single thing you’d want?”

“I want to never wear a tie again.” Shaun pulls at his shirt collar with a grimace. “But I enjoy my life. I don’t need anything else.”

“I didn’t mean in an existential sense,” Neil explains. “More like something I could…I don’t know, buy for you?”

“I do not need you to buy anything for me.”

“I know you don’t _need_ me to, but it’s a bet, Shaun. The winner’s supposed to get something.” He’s trying to think of anything Shaun has mentioned wanting, but nothing recent comes to mind. “How about if you win, we’ll do whatever you want on our day off tomorrow.”

“We were probably going to do that anyways,” Shaun says. “You usually want to do whatever I suggest. And when you don’t, your alternative is always something I find agreeable.”

 _He’s right…and Neil hadn’t even realized it until Shaun pointed it out_.

“Well…whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” Shaun says, succinctly.

Instead of arguing, which he really can’t, Neil thinks about the truth of it. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but Neil’s pretty easy-going, and that coupled with the fact that they have many of the same interests means that it’s rare he disagrees with anything Shaun suggests – whether it’s going to one of their favorite restaurants, or attending a lecture by someone in their field, or something as mundane as running errands together. And somewhere along the way, Neil’s found that his happiness has become inextricably linked with Shaun’s – if Shaun’s happy, _he’s_  happy.

And tonight…Shaun’s happy.

No, this will never be his (or Neil’s) favorite thing to do, but they’ve only been at the gala for a few hours and the evening’s already an overwhelming success, if Neil’s mental tally of donations is anywhere near accurate. And things have been easier for Shaun (for both of them, really), because they’re together. All of that combined means Shaun is content in a way that Neil has never seen him at an event like this before.

“Alright,” Neil picks up the threads of their conversation, “how about if _I_ win, we’ll do whatever I want tomorrow. And you can’t say no.”

Shaun eyes him suspiciously. “Is what you want going to be whatever I want?”

Neil sips his drink to hide his smile. “Maybe.”

Shaun must approve of that answer, since he smiles widely in return. “I think _you_ are the one who does not understand bets. Not that it matters, since I’m going to win.”

“Look, Murphy, I _hope_ you win, because the longer it takes for Andrews to find us, the more time we have to relax. I think we’ve earned a few minutes of peace.”

“I have earned it,” he says primly, tone indicating he’s thoroughly enjoying where this is going. “You, however…”

“I’m certainly not going to argue that people enjoy your company much more than mine.”

“You have fans,” Shaun allows, ignoring his food in favor of pulling at the knot of his tie.

“Would you stop doing that?” Neil scolds, though there’s no real censure in it (truthfully, Shaun’s making him feel suffocated). “You’re going to stretch out the fabric, and don’t think that I won’t bill you to replace it. $250, Murphy.”

Shaun instantly drops his hands, somewhere between disbelieving and horrified. “You are not serious.”

“That I’d bill you? No. That it cost that much? Yes.” Seeing Shaun is less than thrilled with that, he adds reassuringly, “Don’t worry, it’s actually one of the cheaper ones I own.”

 _Oddly enough, Shaun doesn’t seem reassured._ He returns his hand to his neck, brushing over the edge of the tie before complaining, “It’s too tight.”

“It’s not too tight.”

Shaun exhales dramatically. “It _is_.”

“It’s not. And I know because I’m the one who tied it. The last thing I’d do is strangle you.” He waits a beat before adding, “I need you alive to continue taking care of all the patients I don’t want to deal with.”

Shaun tries to look disapproving, but he’s ultimately unsuccessful. “You should be nicer to your residents, _Dr._ Melendez.” He emphasizes the title. “They have the power to make your life miserable.”

“Often without even trying,” Neil agrees.

Shaun frowns at the way Neil has successfully turned his warning into a mild insult. “It goes both ways.”

Neil sends him an assessing glance. “I make your life miserable, huh?”

“You do not,” Shaun answers quickly, the way he always does when he’s afraid Neil has misinterpreted something meant in jest. “You _know_ you do not.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. “It was a joke.”

Neil doesn’t quit, because he _never can_ with Shaun; not when he’s having this much fun. “Are you sure?”

“I suppose you want me to go back out there without you.” There’s zero sincerity behind Shaun’s threat and they both know it. (Despite that, Neil hates the mere idea of it, anyways.)

“You can’t. I won’t let you.” He means it, too. He’s reached the point that the thought of being without Shaun for the rest of the night? Neil can’t go back to that. He won’t. (Maybe not ever – Shaun might have unknowingly earned himself a permanent date for everything they have to attend for the rest of their lives.)

“Fine,” Shaun allows graciously, like he’s doing him the grandest favor, “I will stay with you.”

“You better. And you’d be wise to enjoy this break while you can,” Neil adds. “It astonishes me that Andrews hasn’t stormed over to lecture us yet.”

Marcus must have supersonic hearing, there is _no other way to explain it_ , because the very next moment he’s standing next to their table, staring down at them with excessive amounts of judgement and disapproval. “Murphy and Melendez.” Despite naming both of them, his eyes settle on Shaun. “Why are you sitting in this corner, substantially _far away_ from every single one of our donors?”

Shaun pays him no mind, turning to Neil triumphantly. “Eight minutes.”

Neil checks his watch. “Sorry, Murphy, it’s only been sev–” The minute changes before he can finish the word. “Never mind.” He glances at Shaun. “I hope you know how unnerving it is that you can be that accurate.”

“Because I was not guessing.”

Before they can rehash the same argument all over again, Marcus loudly clears his throat, making no effort to disguise how unhappy he is at effectively being ignored. “Do I want to know what you’re talking about?”

“We made a bet about how long it would take you to find us,” Shaun tells him. “I won.”

“Of course you did,” Marcus says wryly, before his expression returns to stern displeasure. “And do you have an answer for why you’re both hiding out back here, Murphy?”

“Has our goodwill from earlier already evaporated?” Neil’s question draws Marcus’s attention towards him, which is what he’d intended, because the other man _knows_ better than to turn his censure on Shaun if Neil’s anywhere in the remote vicinity.

Marcus studies him, then wilts the slightest bit, and Neil guesses it’s a combination of being reminded how well he and Shaun have done so far, along with the clear warning on Neil’s face that one ill-advised word to Shaun means that their decision to take a break will be the least of their boss’s concerns.

“We did not even leave the room,” Shaun points out, swirling his water in the Baccarat crystal glass the bartender had insisted was all he had. ( _God, these galas are pretentious_ – _no wonder Marcus is always so much in his element at them._ )

“You are allowed to eat and drink,” Marcus says, and only _he_ could manage to sound magnanimous with such a statement. “I suppose.”

“So glad we have your permission,” Neil replies, and blames hours of being ‘on’ (for lack of a better word) as to why he’s not fast enough to pull his plate away when Marcus grabs a mini-quiche.

“Do we need to have a refresher on boundaries?” Neil gripes, glaring up at him as Marcus eats his appetizer (and doesn’t have the grace to look even slightly ashamed). “I distinctly remember at the symposium we attended this summer, you –” Neil stops mid-complaint when Shaun tips his own plate over Neil’s and gives him the quiche he apparently doesn’t want. “ _Someone_ around here is thoughtful.” He directs those words at Marcus, then taps Shaun’s forearm in a wordless gesture of thanks.

Marcus looks between them, but refrains from any comment before turning to scan the room again. He’s clearly torn between lecturing his subordinates (one of his favorite pastimes) and his desire to get back to his precious donors.

“I think we’re pulling off quite the successful evening thus far,” their boss tells them, maybe seeking a more neutral topic as he motions around the room. “Would you believe that we came in under budget?”

“The _committee_ certainly outdid itself,” Neil says, not wanting to give Marcus too much credit (his ego hardly needs it).

 _Of course_ , Marcus still takes that as a compliment meant only for him. “It’s undeniable that I run it extraordinarily well.”

Shaun glances at Neil, pressing his lips together in an effort to hide his smile, because he recognizes what Marcus is doing just as well as Neil does. (And knowing that Shaun’s fighting the same reaction makes it easier for Neil to take.)

Marcus starts going on about all he had to do to make the night a success, and while Neil doesn’t doubt that it was a lot of work, the other man’s insinuations about doing it out of selflessness are a little too much. Marcus knows the more money they raise, the better he looks, and Neil can’t blame him for wanting credit, but the constant self-adulation is tiring. Neil’s also heard all this before (many, _many_ times before – i.e., at every event the two of them have ever attended that Marcus oversaw), so Neil blocks him out as he turns back to Shaun, sighing inwardly when he sees that Shaun is pulling at the tie again.

“– told me that they haven’t come across a more elegant fundraiser in their ten years of supporting our hospital. I told them it was a team effort – but wrangling that team took all my skill and patience at times!” Marcus laughs like he’s told a particularly hilarious joke, and looks pointedly at Neil, probably wanting some type of agreeable response.

“…No one can scare people into action the way you can?” Neil phrases it as a question, but Marcus’s eyes still light up. ( _Figures that Marcus would interpret that as the highest of compliments_.)

He grins widely at Neil and claps him on the shoulder. “You flatter me, Melendez.”

The look on Shaun’s face says something along the lines of: ‘ _I can’t believe what I’m hearing from you’_ , and Neil shrugs helplessly, still distracted by the way Shaun’s intermittently fussing with his collar and tie. (Besides, in his defense, he’d thought if he humored Andrews, he’d move along that much faster, but it’s backfiring and _oh come on, now Marcus is taking a seat at their table?!_ )

Marcus begins rambling about how many donations they’ve secured so far, and aside from an O.R., Neil’s never seen his colleague more at home than at these fundraisers, surrounded by the kinds of wealthy and influential people Marcus someday hopes to be – Neil’s pretty sure his dream is to one day have people like Neil and Shaun attempting to charm _him_ out of substantial amounts of money that he can afford to dole out the way regular people unthinkingly spend a few dollars on coffee.

“Did you try the quail?” Marcus queries, and Neil honestly isn’t sure if it’s a new subject change, or if it switched a few minutes ago and he’d failed to notice. “It’s not my favorite preparation, but I still found it exquisite.”

“ _Pre-ten-tious_.” Neil makes sure to draw out every syllable.

Marcus makes an unflattering display of loudly shushing him that doubtless draws more attention than the calmly spoken word which had spurred it. “Keep your voice down, Melendez! Pretension is an essential tenet of these people’s lives so do _not_ let anyone hear you say such a thing as an insult – it’s practically sacrilegious in this room. Just play along. You’re good at that.”

Neil’s mood instantly darkens, because Marcus lecturing him on how to treat the elitists he’s stuck with all night is irritating as hell (and the condescension in the other man’s voice makes it all the worse). “I’m _shocked_ that you’re such an expert on pretension, Marcus.”

Andrews isn’t about to let that one go. “Care to expand upon that thought?”

Neil’s never heard a better suggestion, and he’s about to do _exactly_ that, but then Shaun says, “Neil,” and everything momentarily stops; it’s like the gathering cloud over their table evaporates into thin air.

Shaun doesn’t have to say anything else – Neil knows what the quiet reminder was for (and so does Marcus, for that matter). He lets his shoulders relax, because sometimes (most of the time) Shaun is all he needs for his tension to vanish.

He sends a measured (if slightly challenging) look towards Marcus and isn’t surprised when the other man tilts his head in silent agreement to move on. After all, their goal tonight isn’t to argue, and if they keep going, they’re going to upset Shaun who despises fights more than almost anything else. He’s likely to make himself scarce – maybe even leave the fundraiser altogether.

And Neil isn’t going to make it through the rest of the night without him.

 _But Marcus isn’t leaving them alone, either_. He’s just sitting there, seeming confused about how quickly the atmosphere changed, and trying to figure out how to proceed. (Neil can only imagine, perhaps uncharitably, that Marcus is trying to figure out how to reassert his authority without upsetting their current truce.)

“We’d appreciate a few more minutes,” Neil says perfunctorily, and despite the politeness of the words, his tone says nothing except ‘ _Go away’_.

Marcus checks the time on his phone. “I can’t believe I’ve wasted nine minutes over here with you two,” he complains. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

Neil squints at him. “Can you? Because tonight’s proving otherwise.”

Marcus pretends not to hear him, switching his gaze between Neil and Shaun. “You two work,” he says, suddenly. “I don’t know why, or how. But you do.”

Neil’s mind must be running slower than usual, since it takes him a few long seconds to realize Marcus is referring to their supposed _relationship_ and not their actual jobs.

“Thanks…?” Neil tries, as he and Shaun exchange a glance that reveals neither of them has any idea why Marcus would bring that up – or where he’s going with it, for that matter.

“You’re different, Neil.” Marcus sounds like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that’s been vexing him for a while. “Murphy makes you…lighter. Less severe than you used to be.” He nods, apparently satisfied with that description. “You’re more tolerable, overall. I don’t want to fire you half as much as I used to.”

“What a compliment,” Neil says dryly, sending a grin Shaun’s way.

“And you,” he rounds on Shaun, “Melendez makes you…” He trails off, casting a cautious side glance at Neil (in one of his first displays of good judgement when it comes to them this evening).

“Am I more tolerable, as well?” Shaun asks, and though his tone is light, there’s a hint of true question there that Neil can’t stand hearing.

Marcus shakes his head, with a brief look Neil’s way, maybe sensing that it’s all Neil can do to bite back his objection to the implication Shaun’s making. “No, Murphy. He’s helped you become more…relaxed. You’re more at ease with the world – with this kind of world.” He waves a hand behind him, indicating the room at large. “This part of our lives.”

“That has nothing to do with me,” Neil immediately protests. (There’s no way he’s taking credit for something Shaun has worked so hard at accomplishing for _himself_.)

“It has _some_ thing to do with you,” Shaun says steadily, waiting for Neil to look at him. “I told you that you make things easier for me. That includes…this.” He’s glancing around the room now. “Everything about _this_.”

Neil swallows heavily, because this is another one of those things that he’d already known, but it’s so much different to _hear_ it. “I understand what you’re saying, but it’s mostly you, Shaun. You learned this on your own. I didn’t gift you with some ability to charm donors, or fight back your own discomfort in order to navigate social situations as well as you’ve done tonight.”

“I learned much of it from you,” Shaun insists. “Talking with you. Listening to you. Emulating the ways that you interact with others. And you have helped me aside from that. Your _presence_ helps me.” He falls silent for a few seconds, running his finger around the edge of his plate, not looking at either of them. “Dr. Andrews is correct: I’m able to relax around you in a way I can’t with anyone else. At the hospital, or at home, or…even someplace like this. When we’re surrounded by hundreds of people.”

It’s a little stunning for Neil to hear how deeply he’s affected Shaun’s life, especially on a daily basis, and he needs a minute to process all of that. He replays Shaun’s words in his head, relishing the innate happiness they bring him, because this is _all he’s wanted_ when it comes to Shaun: teaching him how to live up to his full potential as a surgeon, helping him interact with other people, and most importantly, taking away some of the stress he faces on a daily basis.

And it’s not like this is a one-way street, either.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” Neil tells him. “And I hope you know that you’re just as important to me as I am to you. Do you know why Andrews says I’m – as he so flatteringly puts it – ‘more tolerable’ nowadays?” When Shaun shakes his head, Neil explains, “It’s because of you. You keep me…” He desperately searches for a word that describes the effect Shaun has had on him, especially these past few months (and stretching back well before they started this pretend relationship, which has somehow turned into one of the best ideas Neil’s ever had). “Sane, Murphy. You keep me sane.”

Marcus coughs and mutters, “That is highly debatable.”

“Especially around our colleagues,” Neil explains, with an exaggerated nod towards Marcus. “When I just _can’t take them anymore_ , I look to you and it’s like…this calm washes over me. You remind me that…everything’s fine. Or everything _will be_ fine.” He thinks back over a few of those instances, a handful of which had occurred tonight. “You remind me that there are very few things worth getting worked up over. Even if I do feel like strangling people sometimes.”

Marcus makes a show of pulling out his phone. “Should I be recording this for evidence in your future trial?”

“As I’ve said before,” Neil shuts his eyes, “case in point.”

“I make things easier for you, too,” Shaun says, somewhat hesitantly.

“Very much,” Neil agrees. “One might say…things are better. For both of us.” He makes an attempt at lightening his voice. “So you better stick around.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Shaun says easily.

Marcus, with his uncanny ability to interrupt whenever Neil would like it the least, decides that’s the perfect time to chime in. “You better be going somewhere, Murphy. Namely, back out to all the people I’m sure are clamoring for an audience with you.” When he catches Neil’s wordless ‘ _What about me?_ ’ gesture, he smirks, “And Melendez, of course…by association.”

“We’ll be back out there soon.” _How many times does he have to say it before Marcus gets the hint?_ At this rate, Neil might actually have to do something drastic…like get up before he’s ready.

“Soon better mean _soon_.” Marcus points his phone at him, in some type of silent threat. “Not the ‘Neil Melendez’ version of soon that could be anywhere from twenty minutes to five hours from now.”

Neil wants to roll his eyes but Marcus would probably find a salad fork somewhere just to have the pleasure of stabbing him with it. “The ‘Shaun Murphy’ version of soon, alright?”

“Acceptable.” Marcus nods curtly. “Don’t make me send Morgan this way.”

Neil shudders. “Please don’t, I left my collection of crucifixes at home.”

Marcus abruptly laughs, unprepared for that, before quickly schooling his features into something marginally disapproving. “That is not kind.” (He doesn’t say it’s _wrong_ , though, which means on some level he must agree that there’s a 75% chance she’s possessed by a demon.)

“Morgan is not possessed,” Shaun says, easily reading Neil’s mind, because they’ve had this conversation maybe half a dozen times.

“You can’t prove that,” Neil insists.

“Can’t prove what?” Morgan demands, appearing from _nowhere_ (seriously, does she float out of walls? It _has_ to be a demon thing). She’s trying to stare Shaun down, but it has little effect, as usual.

“Neil believes in the supernatural,” Shaun explains, as he looks up at her. “Rational people, like myself, do not.”

“Is this the ‘possession’ argument again?” she sniffs disdainfully, though her tone is definitely pleased. “I assure you, if I were possessed –”

“– you’d be kinder?” Neil interrupts, as Marcus badly fails at hiding his laughter and then cringes back in his seat when Morgan’s decidedly icy gaze lands on him. (Neil’s inwardly satisfied that Marcus seems to fear her more than anyone else does.)

“Be careful, Dr. Melendez.” She’s watching him in a way that makes him suppress a shiver. “You wouldn’t want to get on my bad side, would you?”

“You have a _good_ side?” he shoots back, though there’s more levity in it than anything else.

That still doesn’t stop her from turning the full force of her glare on him. “I’ve been known to be…loving.” Her mouth twists in distaste at that last word.

“As if you don’t revel in knowing that people are afraid of you,” Neil scoffs. “I’m half-convinced you started the rumor about possession _yourself_.”

“You’ll never prove it,” she hums, in a mockery of pleasantness, and  _great, now she’s sitting down at their table, too._

“As entertaining as this discussion is,” Marcus interrupts, with heavy disapproval, “it’s taking precious time away from the reason we’re here this evening.”

“Making Melendez and Murphy suffer as much as possible?” Morgan asks sweetly, as she eyes Neil’s plate with interest.

“I thought that was your _daily_ goal when it came to us, Reznick?” Neil bats her hand away when she reaches for his food.

“And how am I doing?” She beams at Shaun when he slides his own plate over to her, in silent indication she can have whatever she wants.

“Splendid,” Neil assures her, then turns to Shaun. “Careful – if you feed her, she’ll never leave us.”

“Maybe Shaun secretly wants me around forever,” she suggests, winking at her fellow resident. After giving that accusation some thought, Shaun reaches to take his plate back, but Morgan only pulls it further away from him. “Too late.”

“We’re here: To. Raise. _Money!_ ” Andrews yells the last word, causing both Shaun and Morgan to jump, but their boss isn’t angry – he’s oddly reinvigorated, and Neil’s just glad that his focus is mostly still on Morgan.

“Lest you forget,” Morgan says sharply, jerking her head in Neil and Shaun’s direction, “you assigned me to act as warden to these two. By the way, they’re setting off my perimeter alert again. They might be planning to make a break for it.”

“Then why don’t you stay here and make sure they start circulating again within the next, oh, five minutes?” Marcus’s eyes are bright as he gets to his feet, patting her on the shoulder.

She tips her glass in his direction. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

“Believe me,” Neil promises their boss, “we’ll be eager to get away from her long before those five minutes are up.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” he tells Neil distractedly, already waving at someone across the room as he walks away.

“Hey,” Morgan whines at the semi-insult, but within seconds, she’s preoccupied with something on her phone.

Neil can feel Shaun watching him and turns to shrug, a bit helplessly. “What can we do? These people are the hand we’ve been dealt.”

Morgan says something under her breath that Neil’s sure is insulting, but she doesn’t tear her eyes away from her phone.

Shaun, as usual, doesn’t seem annoyed at _all_ (and how is that possible? Neil will never know). “I like these people,” Shaun says, voice as quiet as it is adamant.

“That makes one of us.”

Shaun isn’t fooled – he never will be when it comes to Neil. “That makes _two_ of us.”

Neil doesn’t reply; he doesn’t have to. Even if Shaun weren’t aware of the truth, Neil’s obvious amusement would have given it away.

By silent agreement, they get to their feet and Neil surveys the room, trying to figure out who they should talk to next; he’s not too particular – anyone on the opposite side of the room from Marcus will do just fine. Shaun unnecessarily smoothes down his shirt, and it must remind him of the tie he hates because he starts pulling at it again, and Neil _can’t take it anymore_.

“Get over here.”

Shaun moves forward without hesitation, into Neil’s space, and it’s only then that he asks, “Why?”

“I’ll show you a trick I learned over the years.” Neil reaches over to take hold of the fabric around Shaun’s neck.

Shaun must interpret that as an invitation to start complaining again. “I don’t like ties. They serve no purpose. I don’t like formal attire, either.”

“Is there anything you _do_ like, Murphy?”

Instead of the joke Neil had meant it as, Shaun takes that question seriously. “I like helping people and saving lives. I like our hospital. Our friends.” He takes a step closer when Neil accidentally pulls overly hard on the tie. “I like _you_.”

Neil stills his hands as he searches Shaun’s face. “We have something in common, then.”

“We do?” The corners of Shaun’s mouth are already turning up, like he knows where this is going.

Neil leans in to whisper conspiratorially in Shaun’s ear, “I like me, too.”

Shaun laughter is quiet, sending a warmth through Neil that he’s starting to get used to whenever the younger man’s around. “And me,” Shaun adds. (It’s not a question.)

“Yes, Murphy. And you.” He forces himself to focus for long enough that he’s successful with the tie, pulling it up and over Shaun’s head.

“Your trick was to…remove it?”

“It’s foolproof, huh?” Neil sets it over the back of the chair he was just sitting in, on top of his suit jacket.

“Undressing each other in public, now?” Morgan tsks, causing Neil to blink as he looks over at her, still seated on the other side of the table. ( _How had he forgotten she was there?_ ) She’s tilting her glass back and forth between them. “Have you two no shame?” When neither of them says anything, she adds, “Not that I judge. And don’t feel like you have to stop on my account.”

“This is a formal event,” Shaun tells her, and the sudden change of subject makes little sense until his eyes fall on the tie Neil had set aside. “You once told me –”

“That was before I knew how things worked around here,” she cuts him off. “Far be it from me to explain, but everyone loves you, Murphy. _Everyone_.” She’s laughing into her drink. “You could have shown up here in surgical scrubs and people would still be falling at your feet.”

“That would hardly be professional,” Shaun protests. “And people do not fall at my feet.”

“Sure they don’t.” For some reason, her sarcasm is accompanied by a long look in Neil’s direction.

Neil swears he spends half of his life trying to get people to leave him (and Shaun) _alone_. “Don’t you have an actual job to get back to?”

“You mean the one that _doesn’t_ involve watching you like a hawk for the inevitable moment when you make a run for the exit?” She heaves a sigh, though it seems more for the fact that she’s finished the last of her drink, if the way she morosely tips the glass upside down is any indication. “I’ll go because I need a refill, anyways – but remember, I’m always here. Always watching. Even when you think I’m not.” With that ominous warning, she sets off across the room.

Shaun doesn’t speak until she’s out of sight. “Morgan is…”

“Unsettling,” Neil fills in. “Eerily so, much of the time. And if we don’t want to deal with her – or Andrews – anytime soon, we should find some new donors to entertain.”

Shaun hesitates, then motions to himself and says, “Are you sure this attire is fine?”

“It’s fine,” Neil says firmly.

“Because you say so?”

“Now you’re getting it. Besides, I guarantee you that no one will care. And on the off-chance someone  _did_ , their opinion wouldn’t be worth considering. Know whose opinion is the most important?”

Shaun breathes out in a way that _might_ mean he’s humoring Neil. “Yours.”

“Exactly, Murphy. _Mine_.” It’s a necessary thing to point out, even if Neil’s half-kidding and Shaun knows as much. The truth is, it wouldn’t _matter_ if anyone cared because no one would dare say anything to Shaun – and that’s because of Neil. ( _Which is exactly the way it should be._ )

Instead of arguing further on the topic, Shaun just says, “I am sorry I almost ruined your tie.”

It takes Neil a few moments to remember the joke he’d made earlier and that Shaun is now apologizing as if he’d actually been serious.

“I will be more careful with your things in the future,” Shaun continues.

“You think that’s what I care about here?” He almost laughs. “My tie.” It might be a minor thing, but there’s something truly _wrong_ with their world, in this moment, if Shaun believes that Neil’s most pressing concern is an item of clothing that he could replace a dozen times over.

“Yes,” Shaun’s answering his question, “why else would –”

“You,” Neil says, right over him. “I care about _you_.”

“Me,” Shaun says flatly, and it sounds like he’s unsure what Neil is getting at.

“Yes, you. I hate seeing you uncomfortable. In any way. It makes me unhappy, Shaun. You haven’t realized that by now?”

“I do realize that,” Shaun says, indicating the space between them. “It is why we are…”

Neil’s relieved that he’s not going to have to spell it out any further, because he’s running out of words and he doesn’t know where he’d go beyond this (but he’s guessing it’s that place where he’s not sure what’s appropriate, anymore). “You should never have worn it in the first place, I _told_ you not to. But who ignored me and went off into a spiel about the history of mens’ formal wear?”

“I should listen to you more often,” Shaun says, gravely.

“Because…?” he prompts.

“Because you _think_ you know everything.”

Neil doesn’t miss the qualifier, but all he says is, “Maybe I do, Murphy.”

“Yes,” Shaun relents, moving closer to fix his tie (for the seventh time that evening). “Maybe you do.”

As annoyed as Neil is about having to go back to entertaining people, it doesn’t take him long to remember this isn’t a typical night at a typical gala. This isn’t just another in a long line of mostly indistinguishable events where he has to repeat his same pitch dozens of times, repeat an abridged biography of himself, and repeat the same patient stories, the ones that always work to pull on donors’ heartstrings and convince them that they actually _are_ making a difference: “ _And this is how your contribution saves lives, one might call people like you the_ real _heroes!”_ (Marcus had actually penned that line himself, and been excessively proud of it, too.)

Tonight’s different because Shaun wouldn’t allow Neil to do any of that if he _tried_. And the best part is that with Shaun, _he doesn’t have to_. The atmosphere tonight feels much more like a party than a mandated work event. Their conversations flow easily, they don’t follow the _Marcus Andrews' Strategies for Success_  template (yes, Marcus calls it that), and with Shaun’s lead, Neil’s easily drawn back into the world that he’s never wanted to be a part of, that he’s only ever _tolerated_ as a facet of his job, and he’s starting to think…maybe things weren’t always as set in stone as he’d thought.

If he’s enjoying himself tonight, then maybe…he could enjoy other nights, too.

Maybe he could _always_ enjoy this.

Though he’d also be the first to admit that his feelings depend heavily on the company he’s keeping tonight.

It’s not like everything goes smoothly, either. But together, he and Shaun are able to maneuver past obstacles that would be much more difficult to overcome alone. Like the time Shaun falters while relaying the story of a patient they’d had a few months prior, a young girl who’d lost her brother in a car accident she’d barely survived. Neil takes over the moment Shaun breaks off mid-sentence, squeezing his arm in quiet sympathy, and no one even _notices_ that Shaun hadn’t been able to keep talking. That if Neil hadn’t stepped in, he would have remained there in silence until someone else decided to change the subject.

Not long after that, a late arrival who remembers Neil from past fundraisers, eagerly asks him where his lovely fiancée Jessica’s been hiding tonight. Neil stares at Delia…something (Shaun is the one who remembers _everyone’s_ name) and his mind goes blank, because it’s been months since anyone asked him about Jess and how is he even supposed to begin to answer that? He’s entirely unprepared as a series of images flash across his mind – the last time he’d seen this woman, he and Jess had a lengthy conversation with her about their upcoming nuptials and how excited they were. This time, it’s Shaun who steps in, saving Neil from his temporary incoherence and explaining the change in his personal life before switching topics so swiftly that no awkwardness has time to manifest. (And he knows that Shaun learned that trick from him – it’s one of Neil’s long-time favorites.)

He lets Shaun carry the subsequent conversation, pleased when Delia accepts the news in stride, and Neil basks in the sudden feeling of _not being alone_ anymore. He doesn’t have to get through these things alone. And neither does Shaun.

Before tonight, he’d occasionally noted how well they complemented each other, but it was mostly in an abstract way. Now, though…it feels like something else. It feels different in a way Neil can’t categorize, or place.

It feels like they’re more, _together_ , than either of them is alone.

After their conversation comes to an end, Delia draws Neil aside to congratulate him on his ‘new relationship’ (read: to pry, to unflinchingly _pry_ ) and he needs a few minutes to skillfully extricate himself from her thinly-veiled interrogation. When he turns in a semi-circle to see if Shaun has been abducted by Marcus or any other board members, he finds the younger man being accosted (for lack of a better term) by a young woman, a nurse Neil recognizes, though not by name. She’s newish, and had come along as the date of one of the oncologists Glassman currently has gathered across the room. (She must be feeling unforgivably ignored by this recent turn of events, since she’s now fixated entirely on Shaun.)

“You have to dance with me, Shaun. Please?” She’s all doe-eyes and long lashes and hopeful expression that’s having next to no effect on Shaun.

“I do not _have_ to do anything,” Shaun informs her.

She issues a sigh, though Neil can tell by the glint in her eyes that she’s charmed by him. “I didn’t mean you literally have to, just that… I really want to?”

“No, thank you,” Shaun politely declines. In response, she takes hold of his arm and tugs lightly towards the dance floor; he tries to step away, but she won’t let go, still issuing pleas and seeming not to notice the growing tension in every line of her would-be partner’s body. Neil sees it, though. (He thinks he sees almost everything when it comes to Shaun, now.)

It takes Neil all of three seconds to assess the situation: the girl’s new enough that she must be unaware of Shaun’s aversion to touching people, and she’s currently oblivious to his discomfort (maybe partly due to having had a few drinks). For his part, Shaun is reluctant to forcefully break her grip and potentially cause a scene. (He’s told Neil on more than one occasion that people tended to react badly when he physically pushed them away.) Shaun’s favored strategy nowadays is to calmly explain his preferences, which gets people to back off fairly quickly. And maybe that would work right now, too, except the nurse isn’t letting him get a word in edgewise through her continued badgering.

Over the past year of working at their hospital, Shaun’s become more tolerant of people unknowingly encroaching upon (or stepping over) his boundaries. He still hates it, and always will, but he recognizes that other people don’t view the world the same as he does. Neil, however, does _not_ share Shaun’s level of tolerance when people infringe upon his resident’s personal space (because anything that makes Shaun uncomfortable tends to infuriate Neil, and that issue has only gotten worse for him over the past year, not better).

He steps up beside Shaun with the kind of silence he associates with Shaun himself. (Truly, his resident’s like a phantom sometimes – there have been numerous instances where Neil has been in conversation with him only to get distracted for a moment, and he’ll turn back to find Shaun’s vanished without a word.)

The girl’s still begging and Shaun’s repeatedly declining, though Neil can tell by the escalating volume of his tone that Shaun’s either moments away from snapping at the girl, or saying something she won’t appreciate (maybe both at the same time).

Neil deliberately places a hand on the back of Shaun’s neck and talks right over her latest round of pleas: “Careful,” he warns. His tone is intentionally light, but there’s an undercurrent to it that reveals he’s far from happy. “I might think you’re trying to steal him away.”

Shaun presses back into Neil’s hand, rolling his shoulders and turning to look at him without speaking – and Neil doesn’t need him to. Shaun’s appreciation is clear in the way he settles, breathing easier, and the annoyance clears from his expression, replaced with the beginning of a smile.

The nurse is staring at Neil like she’d forgotten he existed. “Dr. Melendez, I was…asking Shaun for a dance.”

“You were not asking,” Shaun corrects, as she starts seeming chagrined. “You were demanding.”

Neil lets his eyes fall on her hand, which even Shaun seems to have forgotten is still on his arm. She notices what he’s looking at and wrenches herself away from Shaun as if he’s suddenly caught fire, punctuating the action by taking a couple steps back.

“I do not like dancing,” Shaun’s explaining to her. “I will occasionally tolerate it. But I do not enjoy it.”

The girl fidgets nervously, seeming unsure what to do with herself now that Neil’s there, and she finally folds her hands and says sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I…didn’t know.”

“Now you do,” Shaun says simply. And like magic, all his earlier irritation has vanished, like it never existed at all.

Upon reminding himself of Shaun’s aggravation from only moments before, Neil reflexively tightens his hold on Shaun’s neck, inhaling slowly and trying to understand how Shaun can be this way, so kind in the face of his own discomfort. It’s obvious that the girl had meant no ill will and had no clue she was making Shaun uncomfortable, but most importantly, _Shaun_ is aware of that. After all, it’s the kind of thing he’s been dealing with for his entire life. And he lets it go as easily as Neil would normally hold a grudge (and infinitely longer on Shaun’s behalf than on his own, or anyone else’s).

The three of them have ended up in some kind of stalemate as the girl shifts her eyes back and forth between them and Neil takes pity on her, forcing himself to smile and lift his chin to send her back to her friends (who have, _obviously_ , been watching from across the room with rapt attention).

He could (should) probably let Shaun go when the girl flees, but he doesn’t. All he does is rub his thumb along the back of Shaun’s neck instead.

“Elsie is a good person and an excellent nurse.” Shaun’s watching her, over near the bar, where she’s buried her head in one of her friends’ shoulders; Neil has no idea why Shaun’s espousing her virtues until he adds, with some emphasis, “She did not know how I feel about dancing. You should not be upset.”

“I’m not upset.” Neil has no idea why he bothers lying when they’re both aware of it…but he’ll keep doing it anyways. “You told her how you felt. Many times. And she obviously knows about us, from her reaction.” (Like usual, his mind does its normal disconnect when he thinks about what his _real_ relationship with Shaun is versus what everyone else _thinks_ it is.)

“She’s had too much to drink.” Shaun sounds faintly judgemental at that, and Neil can’t deny he’s amused at the perfect timing when they glance back at the group of nurses just in time to witness someone push a fresh drink into Elsie’s hands. Shaun turns more into him, carefully not breaking their contact (because Neil still hasn’t dropped his hand, how about that?). “I am fine.”

“Sorry that I got distracted. Delia wanted to ask me about Jess and…” _you_. He counts to three on an exhale and reminds himself that this is one of those times when he shouldn’t overreact, but it’s always exponentially harder for him to remain calm when someone causes Shaun any type of distress.

“It is not your fault,” Shaun (too easily) forgives. “And it is not your job to protect me.”

Neil ( _vehemently_ ) disagrees with that. “It is.” When Shaun doesn’t respond, he repeats, “It _is_. You have made tonight…” He doesn’t think he can adequately describe it in a way Shaun will understand since Neil _himself_ doesn’t even fully understand it. He settles for, “I have never been able to enjoy myself at one of these events and yet, with you…I can. So the least I can do is try and make sure that’s true for you, as well.”

“People love me,” Shaun hums. “You cannot help that.” From anyone else, it would have sounded like self-congratulations, but Shaun’s simply stating what he knows to be a fact.

“They do,” Neil agrees, finally letting his hand fall away; Shaun must not appreciate it since he leans into Neil’s side in response. “I can’t fault them for it, either.”

“No,” Shaun genially agrees, “you can’t.”

They lapse into silence as they both turn toward the dance floor. It’s more crowded right now than it’s been all evening, and it’s also occupied by many of their closest colleagues: Aaron and Jessica are dancing (and appear to be deep in an emotional conversation); Marcus and his wife are near them (and Neil can’t believe Marcus has temporarily torn himself away from the donors – but for all his faults, he _does_ love his wife…so maybe it’s not entirely surprising); and Morgan and Park are out there, too, laughing about something. Neil actually does a double take – not that they’re dancing, but that he doesn’t think he’s seen the other man show that much emotion in the past _year_.

He points them out to Shaun. “You think Reznick cast some kind of spell on him? What else could explain it?”

“They are friends?”

“No,” Neil mutters, “that can’t be it. It has to be some kind of black magic.”

Shaun doesn’t seem half as interested in his colleagues as Neil. “Dancing involves…a lot of touching,” he murmurs, a full-body shudder accompanying that statement.

“It does.” He nudges his arm against Shaun’s, finding a distant sort of humor in the fact that they’re touching _right now_ and Shaun has no objection to it. “You know, Murphy,” he says archly, “some might argue that being close to someone is the entire _point_ of dancing.”

“It is probably one of the reasons people enjoy it,” Shaun says, like he’s the first person to ever concede that reason as a possibility. “There are a myriad of theories for why dancing developed among humans, but it’s impossible to pin down its origins with any concrete certainty. The likelihood is that it served a number of different purposes and evolved simultaneously across various cultures and groups.”

“Are you going to educate me on the history of dancing across different social eras?”

“I am not that well-versed in it,” Shaun admits. “I never read extensively about the subject because it did not interest me. I will have to correct that.”

“You do that,” Neil says, and it’s not at all sarcastic – he’s looking forward to hearing what Shaun learns.

For someone who hates dancing because it involves too much touching, Neil absently thinks that Shaun has touched him more tonight – and for a much longer period of time – than a few dances with someone would ever cost him. But he very pointedly does _not_ say such a thing. He never wants Shaun to feel self-conscious about their friendship or about how comfortable he is with Neil. And the mere idea of Shaun second-guessing himself, questioning his innate trust in Neil, or deliberately pulling away when he starts to reach for him…it’s close to unbearable.

Shaun can lean on him whenever he wants. Literally or figuratively. (For _any_ reason.)

And Neil’s going to do everything in his power to ensure that never changes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should just stop leaving notes altogether, because I never turn out to be right. Here's my new one: there will now be 4 chapters of this gala-that's-never-going-to-end, because I've had too much fun with it. So this is part 3, and there will be a part 4. And that _should_ be it for this arc...but who ever knows? (Certainly not me, that much is clear!)
> 
> As always, your feedback means the world to me! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story and it is wonderful to hear from people who are enjoying reading it! <3

Shaun’s playing with the cufflinks on his shirt again.

Neil’s been watching him do it on and off throughout the whole evening, but it’s become close to non-stop in the past ten minutes.

It’s not done unthinkingly, or out of boredom. It’s not a nervous habit, either. No, Shaun’s doing it for one reason: he’s agitated about something, and it’s manifesting in the repeated unfastening and refastening of his cufflinks.

It’s distracting enough that Neil’s lost track of the conversation around them. At this point, he doesn’t care about trying to pick it up again, either (even though he knows he probably should). He’s standing across from Shaun in a circle of (as Marcus would call them) ‘prestigious’ people. Glassman’s there, talking about where all their new funding will go, and there are a few other hospital administrators, and the mayor and her husband. The last two are the most important in their group: not only do they contribute significantly to Saint Bonaventure every year, but the mayor’s favor is crucial for a variety of reasons that benefit them, including partnership on community outreach programs. The short of it is, their hospital can implement the programs they want without her, but her office’s assistance is critical to getting anything done in an expedient manner.

To their luck, she happens to love _all of them_ (Neil and Shaun, in particular). They all share similar backgrounds because she’d originally been on a career track of medicine before changing her mind and turning to politics; as such, she loves to discuss cases with them. It’s convenient because it means conversation with her is easy and Neil can do it mostly on autopilot, but it’s difficult in that she always wants to spend excessive amounts of time with them whenever they’re at an event together.

It happens to be _particularly_ difficult right now because Neil knows his distraction is coming across as irritation, or perhaps even disinterest. And despite knowing that, he can’t help it. Shaun just won’t stop with those cufflinks and it’s ratcheting up Neil’s concern. He’s not about to ask him what’s wrong in the middle of a group conversation, either (and especially not when he has a pretty good idea of what it is).

They’ve been at the gala for close to three hours now and their length of time in attendance has had an inverse effect on Shaun’s level of comfort: the longer they stay, the harder it is for Shaun to suppress, or ignore, his discomfort with their surroundings. Neil can feel his _own_ nerves starting to grate after dealing with people all night long, so he imagines that what Shaun’s going through is significantly worse.

Sure, they’ve managed to take a few breaks, finding quieter areas of the room to escape the immediate crowd, but there’s been no _real_ respite from all the people, all the demands – and that damned holiday music. Shortly after they’d arrived, the light classical in the background (that was easy to ignore) had been switched to ‘holiday favorites’ and Neil swears it’s been the same four songs on repeat for the last two hours.

Because the universe can read his mind (and has a twisted sense of humor) Morgan joins their group, quietly humming along to ‘Winter Wonderland’. When Neil only stares at her, she asks innocently, “Don’t you just _love_ this music?”

He won’t even dignify that with a response (seeing as she’s heard him complain about this almost daily since November 1st, which was when half the radio stations in their area switched over to ‘ _All Christmas, all the time!_ ’ playlists). “It was you, wasn’t it?” he accuses. “You broke into the sound room and changed the music.”

“I might have slipped one of the staff a twenty,” she smirks. “After all, what’s a holiday gala without holiday music?” She takes a slow sip of her drink, then adds (just to provoke him), “I’ve heard no complaints…from anyone else.”

“Why does every song need to have an excessive amount of bells? Who made _bells_ such an important element of Christmas music?”

“Why don’t you ask our resident genius?” she suggests, and there’s nothing except sincerity in her question. “I’m sure he knows.”

Neil’s gaze automatically returns to Shaun; he _hates_ that he can’t reach out and touch him, but he’s too far away and there are people standing closely to either side of him – going over there would not only interrupt the conversation, but he’d have to either move Shaun or someone else to talk to him. (And despite how it’d inconvenience people, he’s about thirty seconds from doing it anyways, if Shaun doesn’t – or _can’t_ – stop.)

The conversation about funding is still ongoing, but Shaun’s not participating; he’s switched to pulling at the edge of his shirtsleeves, and Neil’s no longer the only one who notices. Aaron trips over his own words, mid-sentence, when his eyes pass over Shaun. That alone tells Neil that he recognizes Shaun’s discomfort as readily as Neil has.

“– don’t you agree, Neil?” he catches from Davis, one of the administrators a few rungs down from Aaron.

Neil’s completely lost, and he glances briefly at Aaron, who minutely shakes his head; Neil trusts him implicitly enough that he doesn’t question it. “No, I don’t happen to agree.”

His answer sparks a veritable eruption from almost everyone in the group and Shaun winces as people start talking over each other to argue their sides of an issue that Neil’s still ignoring (but now it’s on purpose). The momentary chaos is the opportunity Neil was hoping for and he crosses the circle, placing a hand over Shaun’s where he’s about to unfasten a cufflink.

Neil doesn’t even have to lower his voice due to the increasing volume of everyone around them as each side gets more passionate. “Can I talk to you? Alone?”

“Yes,” Shaun says instantly, relief flashing across his face. “Let’s go somewhere else. _Anywhere_ else.”

They head for the main doors of the ballroom, and the moment they cross into the hall, the noise dims considerably. There are still plenty of people around, though, and it’s nowhere near as secluded as Neil wants. Shaun’s watching him expectantly, but instead of saying anything, he motions them toward the elevators.

They get in along with two middle-aged women and a young man dressed in a hotel uniform, and it turns out they’re all heading for the top floor. Shaun’s still tense, but he already seems less on edge than he was a few minutes before.

“Did you know this hotel has a rooftop restaurant and lounge?” Neil asks him.

“Yes, I knew. It’s lined with glass walls which provide a 360 degree view of the city. There is also an observation deck, which is separate from the restaurant itself.” At Neil’s silent question, he explains, “I read about the hotel when Dr. Andrews suggested we do so at the last staff meeting. The hospital has reserved a block of rooms here for anyone who chooses to stay overnight instead of going home.”

Neil has no recollection of anything Shaun’s talking about. “Did I attend that staff meeting?”

Shaun breathes out lightly in a show of amusement. “Yes. You were sitting next to me.”

“Oh sure,” Neil returns dryly, “that helps.” (He tends to always sit next to Shaun because he’s found it lessens his urge to tear his hair out from sheer frustration and boredom.)

“You were late, although I’m sure that does not help you differentiate between meetings, either.”

Neil tries to send him a scolding look, but he can’t really pull it off because Shaun’s simply stating facts. Staff meetings are among Neil’s least favorite things and when he knows they’re going to be about the usual monthly issues, and nothing directly to do with him, he tends to show up…on his own time. (To Marcus’s neverending vexation – which only gives Neil more incentive to continue doing it.)

The elevator doors open into the main lobby of the restaurant with a quiet chime. The staff member and the two women head left, towards the hostess stand, and Neil can see most of the restaurant laid out beyond it in a fairly open floor-plan. It’s pretty crowded for this late on a Saturday evening, but this is a popular hotel that’s usually fully-booked, especially when events are going on around the city. Neil even recognizes some of the people at the closest tables as attendees of their gala. They must have been looking for an actual meal, or perhaps they just wanted to get away from the crowd downstairs. (Rather than thinning out as the night went on, Neil swore the ballroom only got _more_ crowded, and he suspects some of the hotel’s other guests had snuck in to crash their fundraiser and take advantage of the free food and drinks.)

The restaurant takes up three-quarters of the roof level, and the final quarter is comprised of the open-air observation deck that overlooks the city. Instead of following their elevator companions, Neil gestures Shaun towards the deck, which is behind floor-to-ceiling glass windows on their right.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” he asks, as he pulls open one of the doors.

Shaun stops in the doorway. “It’s illogical to be afraid of heights if you are not at risk of falling.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes,” Shaun counters, “it is.”

“You could have just said no, Murphy.”

After a long pause, Shaun admits, “I could have.”

“You do this on purpose, right? Tell me it’s on purpose.” His tone’s more than lighthearted because they both know it’s true.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shaun still tries to claim. Neil motions for him to keep walking, and they finally make it outside, effectively ending their argument-that’s-not-quite-an-argument.

Despite having been to this hotel for a few functions in the past, Neil has never made it up here, and now he’s realizing that he’d missed out. It’s a mild evening for mid-December – one of the best perks of living in California. Several comfortable-looking lounge areas are set up around the spacious balcony, secluded from each other by tastefully arranged plants and partitions highlighted by strands of warm orange lights. (And perhaps the best part, in Neil’s opinion? Aside from the two of them, the balcony’s completely deserted.)

The seating areas don’t hold their interest for more than a few seconds, since their attention is automatically drawn to the breathtaking view of the city at night. Shaun must have been telling the truth about his lack of fear, since he heads straight for the ornate, chest-high railing across from them in order to take in all he can of San Jose. Neil knows that Shaun’s probably never seen it from this perspective before; they’ve both seen their city from the roof of the hospital, but the Ritz-Carlton goes up at least twenty floors higher than that, and it’s one of the tallest buildings in this part of the city.

Neil joins Shaun at the railing, and neither of them speaks as they survey the colorful lights of the buildings, the streaks of red and white from cars driving down below, and the rolling hills they can barely make out in the distance beyond civilization. The glass walls behind them are soundproof, so there’s no hum of noise from the restaurant, and they’re up high enough that the city below is mostly muted. The loudest sounds are the occasional light gusts of wind whistling along the edges of the building.

It’s another minute before Neil glances over at Shaun, who’s holding the railing next to him, and he’s surprised to find the younger man’s eyes are shut.

Maybe he can sense Neil watching him, maybe not, but that’s when Shaun breathes, “It’s quiet.” His words are almost carried away by the wind; Neil only hears him because they’re so close.

“It is.” He instinctively leans closer to Shaun, though they aren’t touching. “Inside, when you were…” He lets the sentence fade, brushing a finger over one of Shaun’s cufflinks. “After a while…it’s too much, isn’t it?”

Shaun’s silent for maybe half a minute before he opens his eyes and turns to Neil. “Yes,” he says simply. “The answer to that question is _always_ yes.”

Neil feels his stomach clench in guilt and empathy and hatred of the fact that no matter what he does, he can never fully take that away. “I’m sorry.”

“It is not your fault.” Shaun looks back out over the city. “It’s not anyone’s fault. I’m used to it, but sometimes I still need to be…away from other people. Away from _everyone_.”

Neil shifts his weight from one foot to the other and wonders if that’s Shaun’s roundabout way of making a request. “If you… I could go back?” He takes a step toward the doors. “Leave you alone for a little while?”

Shaun turns his head so fast that it looks like it hurts. “Why?”

“You just said you want to be away from everyone.”

“ _You_ are not ‘everyone’.”

“I’m part of ‘everyone’,” Neil points out.

“No,” Shaun says, harshly enough that Neil’s taken aback, “you are not.” As if there’s any doubt about his vehement dislike of Neil’s offer to leave, he adds, “ _Stay_.”

“Okay,” he holds up his hands in acquiescence, “I’ll stay. If that’s what you want.”

“That is always what I want,” Shaun promises, bringing both hands up to rub at the sides of his neck. “Tonight has been easier than other nights, but as you guessed…as you _know_ , it eventually becomes overwhelming.”

“You could have told me it was getting more difficult for you,” Neil says, unable to hide the regret in his voice. “I could have…I don’t know. Made sure you had a _real_ break. Like now.” He’s moving from frustrated to angry, but it’s not at Shaun, it’s at himself. “Or I could have brought you home.”

“We have to stay until 11.”

“We could have gone home,” Neil repeats.

“Dr. Andrews –”

“Does not get to dictate our lives, despite what he believes. If you wanted – if you _want_ to go home, right now, then we’ll leave.”

Shaun doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. “He would be angry.”

“Where have you been for the past year, Murphy? It’s practically my favorite hobby to make him angry.” He pushes his shoulder against Shaun’s. “It’d be a perk of leaving, to be honest.”

That earns him his first smile since they stepped onto the observation deck, and then Shaun declares, “I want to stay.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that because of Andrews?”

Shaun appears to give that some serious thought. “I want to be here. We’ve already raised a lot of money that will save many lives, but there are still some donors I wish to talk to.” After another gust of wind, he takes a deep breath of the mild evening air. “In a few minutes, I’ll be ready to go back.”

“Okay,” Neil says, taking him at his word. He turns around, leaning his back against the railing, and watches as Shaun shuts his eyes again. It’s fascinating to watch the younger man visibly relax from something as simple as this. All he needed was distance from everyone else.

And silence.

_And Neil, apparently._

The more at ease Shaun becomes, the more Neil feels his own tension uncoil…though the guilt remains. He should have known; he’d mistakenly let Shaun’s outward act lull him into thinking everything was fine, which is the exact same error their friends and colleagues make all the time. But Shaun can only take counteractive measures for so long before everything catches up to him, especially when the demands are unending and he never gets a chance to recover. And although Shaun will usually be the one to step away when he most needs to, he’s always more reluctant at these gatherings because of how much pressure there is on _all_ of them to perform to the best of their abilities: to impress Aaron and Marcus and the board and their donors. So Shaun will push himself as hard as everyone else, but _he’s not everyone else_. What comes easily for most doesn’t come easily for him, and Neil knows that. He should have been looking out for it – especially when he knows his resident often gets so caught up in making everyone else happy that he puts his own needs last.

“It’s better out here,” Shaun murmurs, breaking through Neil’s self-recrimination. “I like when it’s quiet.”

“The lack of repetitive Christmas music is certainly a benefit.” Neil tips his head back to look up at the night sky. There’s a bright crescent moon, but no stars are visible because of the light from the city.

Shaun folds his arms along the railing and leans slightly over to stare down at the city streets below. And his next words jar Neil into awareness.

“I hated where I grew up.”

_He doesn’t have to say it’s where his father lived._

“And I hated where Steve and I ran away to.”

_He doesn’t have to say it’s where his brother died._

“I didn’t hate Casper, the people were kind to me and I had friends there, but it felt…temporary. I knew I wasn’t going to stay.” He pauses for a moment, maybe remembering everything he’d had to get through to end up where he is today. “No place I lived ever felt like home. Not until San Jose.”

Neil rubs a hand over his throat, wondering at the way it aches. “Aaron’s here, and he’s the closest person in your life; it makes sense you’d view this city, where he lives, as home.”

“He is one reason of many,” Shaun agrees, before stressing, “but not the only one.”

“Dare I ask the others?”

“Every friend I have is another reason. You. Claire. Lea. Alex. Mor–”

“Hold it right there,” Neil interrupts. “I think you were about to mistakenly say ‘Morgan’.”

“We’re friends,” Shaun insists, “even if she likes to pretend she has none.”

“If you say so,” Neil relents, because he can’t deny that they’ve all been getting along better lately (even if their interactions are almost always colored by her trademark brand of antagonism).

Shaun’s turned his attention back to the dark horizon. “I love this city and I never want to leave it.”

“I don’t think it’s the _city_ that you don’t want to leave,” Neil tells him. “I think it’s the people.”

Shaun doesn’t hesitate. “You’re right.”

“One of my favorite phrases, Murphy. Good thing I’m right so often – I get to hear it a lot.”

Shaun doesn’t respond to that, but he’s smiling, and that’s really all Neil had been going for. (It might be all he’s ever going for, to be honest.)

Their conversation lapses just as Neil feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. He knows who it is before he checks the screen – Andrews, demanding to know where he and Shaun are (in all capital letters, at that, because Marcus knows how to be as obnoxious as possible, even in texts). Neil doesn’t reply, shoving the phone back in his pocket and ignoring when it starts vibrating again. Their boss is probably calling him now. (Or else he’s recruited some of the others to start doing the same, hoping that Neil will answer if he sees it’s not Marcus.)

“He wants us back,” Shaun says, correctly determining who it is solely from Neil’s reaction.

“He does, but he’s not getting us. Not yet.” The unspoken vow is that they aren’t going anywhere until Shaun decides that he’s ready to return.

Shaun studies him for a moment. “Thank you.”

“For ignoring Marcus’s texts and calls?” Neil shrugs him off. “You know I do that every day.”

“No, not for that.” The gravity of Shaun’s expression doesn’t change. “For everything. Thank you for _everything_.” The way he says it, like it’s something Neil should have already known, gives him pause.

“You don’t –”

“Do not tell me I don’t have to,” Shaun interrupts, his frustration rising so quickly that Neil almost moves back. “You always say that. Let me thank you. I _want_ to.”

If he’d known how much his protests bothered Shaun, he would have made them a lot less frequently. “Alright,” he easily agrees, holding his arms out in silent invitation. “You have blanket permission to thank me whenever you want, for anything you want.”

Shaun nods, appeased. “Thank you.”

Neil tries to refrain from commenting, but…he just can’t. “Are you thanking me for ‘everything’? Or are you thanking me for the _permission_ to thank me…for everything?”

It takes Shaun a few seconds to work that out and now he’s valiantly trying to keep a straight face. “I think I might rescind my ‘thank you’.”

“Nope, too late. Already said it, you can’t take it back.”

Shaun loses the fight against his smile. “That’s okay, because I meant it. Some events are worse than others. This has not been one of them.” His words take a more serious turn. “And that is because of you.”

“I tried,” Neil responds, somehow managing to keep his tone light (he truly has no idea how he pulls it off). “Do you know how difficult it is to keep people from bothering you? You’re really popular.”

“So are you.”

“That goes without saying, but I have _decades_ of experience avoiding people.”

“I suppose I will have to practice,” Shaun says, voice equally as light, and it makes Neil think about something he’s been meaning to bring up for a few weeks.

“Shaun, you’re still…in favor of this, right? Letting people think we’re in a relationship?” He’s not sure if it’s his imagination that Shaun tenses slightly.

“I have told you that I like what we’re doing.” Shaun’s gripping the railing tighter now (so no, it’s not Neil’s imagination). “Many times.”

“I know, but you can like the benefits of it while…not wanting to do this anymore. I mean, we’re going to stop this at some point, right? So whenever you’re done, for any reason, just let me know.”

“Any reason,” Shaun echoes, staring down at the railing, or maybe his hands that are wrapped around it.

Neil has no idea if Shaun’s emphasizing the point, or if he’s asking for examples; he decides to offer some, just in case. “Yes, any reason. Like if you’re sick of keeping up the pretense. Or…if you meet someone you _actually_ want to date. We’ve been doing this for almost four months, and I know when we started, there was no one you wanted to pursue a relationship with. But you’ve met plenty of new people since then, even just tonight. So if you _have_ considered dating someone…” He trails off, figuring he’s driven that point home enough.

Even though Shaun appears disengaged from the conversation, Neil can tell by his stance that he’s listening closely. (And he also realizes he might have given Shaun the wrong impression about ‘needing’ a reason.)

“You don’t even have to tell me why, or have some excuse for it,” Neil clarifies. “Wanting to stop because you _want to stop_ is perfectly fine – all you have to do is tell me. What I’m getting at is that I wouldn’t be upset. I know we agreed to this because it benefited both of us, in different ways, so I want to make sure you’re not still doing it…just for me. Because we’re friends and you think it’s what I want. _You_ should want it, too.”

Shaun doesn’t say anything to that, and he doesn’t look away from the city lights, either. Neil’s starting to think he might have said something he shouldn’t have, but he replays his words and can’t find anything wrong with them – although that doesn’t mean he’d _wanted_ to say any of it. In fact, the mere idea of Shaun telling him he wants this to end is making Neil feel distinctly unwell.

They spend a lot of their free time with each other and that’s only become more true over the past few months. So if Shaun _does_ want to stop doing this, their time together will inevitably decrease. And if Shaun wanted to date someone? At that point, he and Neil might stop seeing each other outside of work, altogether. Shaun’s not the type to deliberately cut people out of his life, but it tends to naturally happen when people start new relationships. (Hell, look at the two of them, they aren’t even _really together_ and they already monopolize each other’s time.)

Once Neil hits upon the thought of Shaun being in another relationship, it’s like he can’t let go of it. Because it would spread to every part of his life – take tonight, for example. Shaun would obviously want to attend functions like this with his significant other, and that means Neil would be…on his own again. He’d have to be somewhere else, somewhere _away from Shaun_. Because he couldn’t very well hover around him – well, he _could_ , but it’d seem overbearing and inappropriate. (Alright, it might not just _seem_ like it, it _would be_.)

And that’s what bothers Neil the most: that he _wouldn’t be there_. Not just at work events, but in general. He’d no longer get to spend time with Shaun, who’s become one of his favorite people; he challenges Neil at every turn and makes him better in a myriad of ways. And he’s the one person Neil feels like he can truly be himself with, lately.

But more than that, Neil’s main reason always comes back to Shaun. He wouldn’t be there if Shaun needed something. If Shaun needed _him_. Because even if Shaun had someone else in his life, how could that person ever know him as well as Neil does? Or read him as well as Neil does?

Who else could see the things Shaun tries to hide, or hear the things he doesn’t say? Who could _ever_ –

“Are you asking because there is someone _you_ wish to date?” Shaun’s question snaps Neil out of his spiraling thoughts, and he’s momentarily grateful – but then he registers the wrong conclusion and almost recoils.

“No,” he says, probably too harshly, “there isn’t.” He takes a steadying breath, wondering why this conversation seems more serious, more important, than any of the ones he’s had over the course of his _real_ romantic relationships. “I’m only reminding you that you can change your mind about this at any time. And no matter what – even if you wanted to date someone – our friendship wouldn’t have to change. Not if you didn’t want it to.” Though Neil knows it would. It _would_. (How could it not, if he had to let Shaun go?)

“There is no one else.”

Neil lets out the breath he was holding, but he’s still not completely at ease, because Shaun’s answer speaks nothing to his desire (or lack thereof) to keep pretending they’re in a relationship. (And Neil won’t feel like the matter is settled until Shaun reassures him, outright.) “So you still want to do this?”

Instead of answering him, Shaun asks, “Why do you think I would not?”

Neil’s not sure if he can articulate it that well…but he’ll try. “Because we haven’t talked about it in weeks, and I didn’t know if you were as happy with things as you were before. And like I said, I don’t want you to ever do anything because you think it’s what I want. Because you think doing this, keeping up this pretense, makes me happy.”

“Does it, though?” Shaun tilts his head in inquiry. “ _Does_ this make you happy?”

Neil’s a little surprised at the directness of the question, framed in such a simple way that it’s odd he hasn’t considered it in those terms before. And there’s no question when it comes to his honest answer. “Yes, it does. Everything about our relationship makes me happy, Shaun. The ease with which we work together, and how close we’ve become as friends, and yes, even the fact that people think we’re romantically together – because that helps both of us. But mostly I like that last part because it helps _you_ – and that’s what’s most important to me.”

Shaun has an uncanny ability to detect exactly what Neil’s looking for, sometimes, and right now he must sense that Neil needs to hear him say the words. “I want this to continue,” he says steadily. “And I will tell you if I ever change my mind.”

An unexpected (and dizzying) wave of relief crashes over Neil upon hearing that, and he reflexively takes hold of the railing behind him. “You –” He replays one particular word Shaun had slipped in there. “ _If_?”

“Earlier, you pointed out that we’re going to end this someday.” Shaun taps his fingers against the railing as he faces their city again. “But maybe I’ll never want to.”

Shaun’s sentiment is lighthearted, and Neil finds himself smiling in return. “And what about me, hmm?” He makes sure to match Shaun’s tone. “Don’t I get a say?”

“No.” Shaun doesn’t turn back to him, but Neil hears the humor in his voice. “You don’t.”

Shaun’s said it jokingly, but Neil has the fleeting thought that even if he were being serious… _it wouldn’t matter_. Because honestly? Neil’s come to the realization that he doesn’t want to end this, and he can’t picture changing his mind about that anytime in the near (or distant) future. Before, he had no interest in dating anyone, but now he has an actual _aversion_ to the very idea. (And that feeling has only gotten stronger over time.)

After he and Jessica broke off their engagement, he hadn’t wanted any quick rebounds or flings – that kind of thing never held much appeal to him. And the thought of dating again held no enjoyment for him, either; not after the pain of their break-up. He’d figured he would slowly recover, that he’d eventually want to get back into the dating world after enough time had passed. (Or, at the very least, he’d find the idea of it less objectionable.)

It’s strange for Neil to realize that this thing with Shaun has had the opposite effect on him – and he knows the major reason for that is related to his thoughts from earlier: just as Shaun would spend time with someone else if he began a new relationship, Neil would be expected to do the same if _he_ began dating someone. And the last thing he wants is to sacrifice their friendship for some hypothetical relationship with a person who’s not nearly as important to him…who probably could _never_ be as important to him as Shaun. (And he conveniently ignores the fact that the whole _purpose_ of dating is to see if he could care for someone in that way again, because he just…he doesn’t want anything to do with it.)

“Alright,” Neil theatrically laments, “I _guess_ I can keep up the pretense of our relationship for the foreseeable future.” He turns back around so he and Shaun are facing the same direction again, looking out over San Jose. “Until you decide to let me go, of course.”

Shaun hums in some kind of agreement and even though there isn’t much space between them, maybe it’s too much, from the way his resident inches closer. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Neil whispers, not wanting to break the tranquil spell they’ve found themselves under.

Shaun relinquishes the railing so he can rub his eyes, abruptly reminding Neil of how long they’ve both been awake (and when Shaun leans into his side, it only confirms how tired he must be). It’s not 11 yet, but it’s getting close, and he wonders how soon after that predetermined time he’ll be able to get Shaun to leave.

His phone starts vibrating again, but he determinedly ignores it. It’s peaceful out here, and still as quiet as when they first arrived (no one else has come out onto the deck), and Shaun’s presence is warm – not just physically, Neil feels it _everywhere_.

And a part of him (that he really should ignore) is telling him that they never have to return to the gala; he could stay out here, with Shaun, for the rest of the night.

A sudden burst of cold crosses his skin, and he shivers, wondering if it was some kind of sharp wind gust. But it hadn’t seemed like one, and Shaun hadn’t reacted, either. “Did you feel that?” he murmurs.

“What?”

“It felt like some kind of dark, ominous –”

“Well, well, well.”

“– chill,” he finishes dryly, suppressing his sigh upon hearing Morgan behind them.

“Someone’s screening his calls,” she tells Neil, as she crosses the balcony and rests her elbows on the railing, situating herself on the other side of Shaun. “It’s very passive aggressive of you.”

“You did not call me,” Shaun points out, as he pulls away from Neil so he can face her.

“I knew you wouldn’t pick up. With Dr. Melendez, I still had some mild hope. Though I see I was wrong.”

“How’d you know where we were?” Neil asks, suspiciously. He checks his phone, and sure enough, there are three missed calls from Marcus and two from Morgan.

“Are you questioning my superior detective skills?” She brushes some hair behind her ear when the mild breeze pushes it across her face. “Alex has been giving me pointers on how to track down perps.”

“Oh God, you’re even talking like him – I can’t decide which one of you is a worse influence on the other.”

She laughs lightly at that. “He’s going to be so annoyed that I won – he bet I couldn’t find you in under five minutes,” she takes her phone out of her clutch to check the time, “and it’s been less than four.”

Neil thinks he’s probably doing something wrong in his perpetual quest to avoid people if Morgan found them that easily. (Or maybe Park’s just an exceptional teacher.) “What’s he going to owe you?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” She’s texting someone now (presumably Park to gloat about her win, if her triumphant smile is any indication). “I think I’ll make him take me to dinner. An _expensive_ dinner.”

“Forcing him to spend an evening with you?” Neil infuses his voice with as much sympathy for Park as he possibly can. “That’s a harsh punishment for losing a bet, Reznick.”

She glances up from her phone just to send him an idle glare. “My company is _delightful_ , Melendez.”

Shaun opens his mouth to speak, but when Morgan instantly switches her laser focus over to him, he must think better of it, since he ultimately says nothing.

Despite himself, Neil’s actually curious about her methods. “Okay, I’ll bite. How’d you find us so fast in a hotel this size?”

She presses send on a final message, then neatly puts her phone back in her clutch. “Truthfully? Don’t tell Alex, but it wasn’t that difficult. I just asked a few people in the lobby if they’d seen the most obnoxiously in love couple at our gala, and everyone pointed me toward the elevators.”

It doesn’t even sound like she’s _joking_. “Really?”

“Really. And since neither of you booked a room –” At Neil’s wordless expression of ‘ _How could you possibly know that?_ ’ she explains, “I checked with the front desk.”

“Guess I’m only staying at hotels under aliases now,” he mutters.

“I’d still know,” she says bitingly (and somehow, he believes her). “Now, since I knew you got on the elevator, but didn’t go to a room, that left the top floor. Nothing else – like the gym or the executive level – made sense.” She’s grinning, clearly beyond thrilled with herself. “Helpful hint? Next time you want to truly hide, find a spot that _isn’t_ behind glass walls. I saw you the moment I stepped out of the elevator.”

“We were not trying to hide,” Shaun informs her.

“Maybe _you_ weren’t,” her voice is shrewd, “but Melendez sure was.”

She’s mostly right – he hadn’t been looking to ‘hide’ so much as he’d been looking to buy Shaun some time to regain himself, but the distinction is minor and not worth arguing over.

“Look,” he begins, “you can save your spiel about needing us to return immediately. We have it memorized by now, so –”

“I’m not here to nag you, and you don’t have to worry, I won’t be telling Andrews where you are. Frankly, I’m sick of it. And I have much more worth than to act as your prison guard all night.” She drops her clutch onto a nearby chaise lounge so she can grip the railing, then uses her hold to lean back and look up at the sky. “I told Andrews as much.”

Neil’s stunned into momentary silence, because that’s the last thing he expected to hear, from her of all people.

“You told him that?” Shaun’s somewhat apprehensive. “What did he say?”

“He told me something I figured out a long time ago.” She laughs a little. “You get it, don’t you? This whole thing? Why he won’t leave you alone?”

Shaun mutely shakes his head, and because she’s Morgan, Neil knows she could be going _anywhere_ with this.

“It’s not only about what you do for him,” she tells Shaun. “Whether it’s raising money or your research or – well, you know everything that you do. And that’s all a big part of it, but there’s more to it than that.” She looks between them, searching for something, and when she doesn’t find it, she breathes out in annoyance. “You two really are wrapped up in each other, aren’t you? You don’t see half of what goes on around you. Or right in front of you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Shaun says, and it’s better that he’s the one who answered her, because Neil’s response wouldn’t have been half as kind – not with how frustrating she’s being (which he suspects is deliberate).

And he’s more or less proven right when she smiles smugly at them, and goads, “Come on! You really have _no_ idea?”

Shaun looks to Neil, seeking some sort of answer he doesn’t have. And that makes Neil affect the tone that _no one_ will argue with, not even her. “Out with it, Reznick.”

Her face falls into a displeased frown at having her fun cut short, but she gives in, turning to Shaun and bluntly informing him, “Andrews is worried about you.”

“He is?” Shaun asks, and his question is the only thing Neil’s heard so far in this conversation that surprises him.

“Wait,” he turns Shaun back towards him by his shoulder, “you didn’t know that?”

“Oh.” Morgan’s clearly disappointed that she hasn’t revealed any groundbreaking news about their boss. “So you did know.”

“Of course I knew,” Neil tells her. “That’s how Marcus _is_ , how he’s always been; the more worried he is, the more aggravating he gets. He has difficulty expressing emotions like a normal person.”

“I did not know that,” Shaun murmurs.

“Sorry, I should have…” He looks from Shaun to Morgan, both of whom appear to be processing this new information in their own ways. “Sometimes I forget that none of you have known him as long as I have.”

“Is that why he’s on you all the time?” Morgan jokes to Neil. “Because he’s concerned about you?”

He can’t help laughing. “No, I just annoy the hell out of him. And it’s mutual.”

Morgan idly kicks at the leg of a chaise lounge, like she’s testing its durability. “I suppose from a purely practical standpoint, it makes sense.” She glances at Shaun. “You do a lot for him and the hospital. Obviously, he wants to make sure that you’re…doing all right. And he shows that by hovering. And otherwise irritating you.”

“Hmm,” Neil nods in agreement, “and what’s _your_ excuse, Reznick?”

“You know me,” her voice teems with feigned pleasantry, “I’m veritably overflowing with concern for my colleagues.” She cautiously perches on the edge of the chaise, and when it doesn’t collapse under her, she relaxes. “For what it’s worth, I tried telling Andrews he’s wasting his time worrying about Shaun.”

Neil knows where she’s going with this, and he’s not sure how well Shaun will take it, but he misses his chance to steer the conversation somewhere else when Shaun asks her, “What do you mean?”

She takes in his genuine curiosity for a few long seconds. “Why are we on the observation deck right now?” When he fails to answer, she adds, “And whose idea was it to come up here?”

Neil studies her, wondering how she’d determined it was him, and not Shaun, who’d brought them to the roof. “How did you –”

“It’s what you do,” she interrupts, not even needing him to finish the question. “What you’ve _always_ done.” She leans back, allowing her eyes to fall shut. “And now that you’re in a relationship, I don’t know why our boss would ever be concerned about Shaun again. Which is exactly what I told him.”

At first, Neil thinks there might be some kind of subtle dig hidden in her statements, but all he hears is sincerity. And maybe even more than that: it sounds like she’s stating what she believes to be a fact. (And that causes him immense satisfaction, because if _Morgan’s_ aware of how far he’ll go to protect Shaun, then it means pretty much everyone else they work with knows, as well.)

Shaun’s quietly putting together her (mostly unspoken) implication – and unlike Neil, he doesn’t like it. “I don’t _need_ anyone. I can take care of –”

“Yourself,” Morgan interjects. “We know, Shaun. We’ve all heard this speech a hundred times. And you know what? We can _all_ take care of ourselves – but that doesn’t mean you always have to refuse help from other people. I also want to add that your righteous indignation is hard to swallow when you only have yourself to blame for the conclusion I reached a long time ago.”

Shaun’s clearly lost, but he remains quiet, waiting for her to go on.

“That automatic, unhappy reaction that you just had? That’s the kind of reaction you have whenever _anyone_ tries to help you. You shut them down immediately, often angrily. With the occasional exception of Dr. Glassman, you push everyone away. _Except_ …” She waves a hand at Neil. “Him…you only draw closer. And that was true before you admitted you loved each other. I used to wonder about it, too. Obviously, I don’t anymore.”

Shaun’s just staring at her, like he’s consciously realizing (maybe for the first time) how right she is.

“So don’t get upset because I happened to point out the truth,” she’s continuing, slightly miffed. “Besides, what’s so awful about letting other people help you? It doesn’t mean you can’t do things for yourself.”

Shaun shakes his head before she’s done talking. “My whole life, people have tried to ‘help’ me, but it’s almost always a lie. They’re not helping me, they’re helping themselves. By doing things to make _their_ lives easier, or to allow them to feel better about themselves.” He’s getting more frustrated as he goes on. “People try to make decisions for me. They try to do things _for_ me. Even Dr. Glassman has made that mistake, many times. _None_ of that helps me.”

“And Dr. Melendez?” She sounds genuinely curious.

“He knows the difference between helping and…taking my choices away.”

Neil feels something inside him twist at the unwavering honesty and gratitude in his voice. Shaun’s trust in him is absolute and he’ll never take that for granted, not least of all because he knows what it costs for the other man to extend it. He reaches over to run his hand down Shaun’s arm, for no other reason than to acknowledge that he _hears_ him. (Neil’s gotten significantly better at listening over the past year, gotten better at recognizing that it’s not even necessarily about the _words_ someone is saying…and a lot of that is thanks to Shaun.)

“That’s one of the things I miss most about being a relationship,” Morgan’s sighing, maybe to herself; her tone is one-part envious, two-parts wistful. “Having someone who knows you that well, who can help when you most need it. Without even having to ask them.” She sinks further into the chaise lounge. “What you two have…I almost find it sweet.” Her eyes widen, like she can’t believe what she’s just admitted, out loud, in front of witnesses. She presses the heels of her hands to her forehead and groans, “My God, how much have I had to drink tonight? Do not repeat _any_ of that.”

“We could probably keep it between us,” Neil offers. “For the right price.”

“Don’t try and blackmail me,” she threatens. “I’ll blackmail you right back. A hundred times worse.”

“You have nothing on us,” Neil points out.

She narrows her eyes. “I’ll make something up. I'm very creative.”

Shaun, as usual, ignores their argument entirely as he checks his phone. “Dr. Andrews is texting me. We should go back.”

“You should say no to him more often,” Morgan suggests, stretching as she returns to her feet. “He asks so much of you because you rarely put up a fight.”

“This is our job,” Shaun says evenly. “I want to be here tonight.”

“I don’t mean tonight, which was mandatory for all of us. I’m talking about the things he’s always asking you to volunteer for. Like after work. Or on your days off.” She affects a tone of innocence. “Unless you _enjoy_ all the community outreach programs he’s roped you into lately?”

Shaun hesitates briefly. “You know I do not.” He’s complained about it many times, to all of them. Shaun doesn’t mind volunteering when he can actively help people in their city, but many of the extra events Marcus asks him to assist with barely require consciousness – things like sitting for hours at an information booth or attending city council meetings to ‘represent’ their hospital. (Neil’s gone to a few things with him and they’re as boring as he remembers from the days of his own residency.)

“You’re part of a team,” Morgan reminds him. “Tell Andrews you want to enjoy more of your time off and he’ll spread things around more. Take the holiday fair he signed us up for next weekend, as an example.” Her smile turns biting. “Alex could stand to spend his Saturday interacting with his fellow citizens and handing out educational pamphlets. It’s not like he has anything else to do with his free time.”

“Andrews is equally as likely to make you do it,” Neil points out.

“Good,” she says snippily. “I love helping those in our community who are most in need.”

Neil wonders if she’s ever going to realize that he can see right through her; in his field, it’s people like her who are common and people like Shaun, who have no use for subterfuge, that are rare. “Or, Reznick, it’s that you want more opportunities to impress him. Opportunities that would come along much more frequently if Shaun turned him down more often.”

“So what?” She crosses her arms and addresses Shaun. “It’s not like your future’s in any jeopardy here, which means it’s win-win. You get to do less, we get to do more. Think of how much you could get done in your free time if you cut back on the volunteering. I’m sure you and Melendez have _plenty_ of mind-numbing things you’d love to do if you only had more time together.”

It must be downright impossible for her to go more than five sentences without issuing some kind of subtle insult. And yet…she’s not saying anything Neil hasn’t thought for a while. He’s always felt like Marcus asked too much of Shaun, but he’d never wanted to interfere and make it seem like he was using his position to sway things in his resident’s favor.

“Three of my last four days off, I have done things Dr. Andrews requested,” Shaun says, as he looks at Neil, which means he wants his input.

“You should do what you want,” Neil tells him. “But you shouldn’t say yes to everything just because you think it’s what he wants to hear. You’re allowed to enjoy your free time. You’re allowed to have a life. After everything we give to our jobs, we’ve _all_ earned that.” He glances at Morgan, making sure that she’s listening to this next part, because she’s the one who most needs to hear it. “Don’t ignore your personal life for your career. You might think it’s worth it, and for years, for _decades_ , it might be. But in the end, you’ll regret it. I’ve seen it happen to too many people. They sacrifice their families, their friends, their hobbies – any semblance of a life outside of work gets pushed aside and forgotten. But we can’t do this forever, there’s an ‘after’ for all of us, and if you retire and there’s nothing? You’ll hate it and you’ll be miserable, and you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you’d done things differently.”

“Maybe I _want_ work to be my life,” Morgan argues, probably just for the hell of it. “I could figure out a way to centralize everything, personal and professional, around our hospital.” She sends an arch look Neil’s way. “Like you two have.”

“You could date another doctor,” Shaun says, helpfully.

She’s thoroughly unimpressed with that suggestion. “Doctors are practically the _worst_ people to be in relationships with. Arrogant, entitled, completely and utterly incapable of seeing anything beyond themselves –”

“He didn’t tell you to date yourself, Reznick,” Neil breaks in, on a smirk. When she swats his arm, he adds, “You walked right into that one.”

Shaun seems to have taken offense at her description. “Doctors are people, like everyone else. All people have good and bad qualities.”

“Yes, but a lot of the same attributes that make a person a great doctor also make them terrible at relationships.” She heads back inside, with Shaun shortly behind her, which means Neil has no choice but to follow them both. “It’s practically a scientific fact.”

“It is not,” Shaun refutes. “Claiming something is a scientific fact does not make it one. There are lots of good people who work at our hospital.”

“Murphy’s right,” Neil says, as they reach the elevators and he presses the button to go down. “You just have to open your eyes.”

“Yes, you could date an ophthalmologist,” Shaun tells Morgan.

She presses a hand to her face in a futile effort to stifle her laughter. “I don’t even know if that was actually funny.” She turns to Neil. “Was that funny? Or is it the alcohol?” Before he can attempt an answer, she waves him off. “Forget it, why am I asking you? Your excessive affection for him makes you blind to whether he’s actually humorous or not.”

“It was mostly a joke,” Shaun informs her, as they step into the elevator. “If you needed clarification.”

“What say you, Reznick?” Neil begins, slyly. “Have you…got eyes for any ophthalmologists?”

She groans as she collapses against the back wall of the elevator. “That is so terrible. Stick to your day job, please, because that kind of humor could kill.”

“Puns are a sign of intelligence,” Shaun chimes in. “I read a study wherein –”

She holds up a hand to stave him off. “I don’t need a twenty minute lecture on why Melendez is the smartest person you know.”

“ _I_ am the smartest person I know,” Shaun counters, matter of factly.

“He’s humble, too,” Neil loudly whispers to Morgan.

She snickers before telling Shaun, “Fine, I don’t need a twenty minute lecture on why you love him so much.”

Shaun glances back and forth between them. “Neil has many admirable qualities. I could list them.”

“That wasn’t a challenge, Murphy,” Neil warns, knowing what tends to happen when Shaun tries to ‘prove’ that they’re together. But then he wonders… “Actually, I might enjoy hearing that list.”

“How long does this elevator take?” Morgan’s voice has taken on a decidedly whining note as she watches the numbers for the floors tick down. “I have to get out of here.”

“I was not aware you were claustrophobic,” Shaun says, with some concern.

“I’m not _yet_ ,” she says warily, “but I can tell this is how that phobia starts.”

“A phobia usually involves something traumatic that –”

“Exactly,” she interrupts.

Thankfully, before she and Shaun can start an actual argument over the clinical origin of phobias, the doors open and she’s off like a shot, throwing a hasty wave at them over her shoulder.

Neil turns to Shaun as they reenter the lobby. “Sure you’re ready to go back?”

Shaun adjusts the ends of his shirtsleeves and Neil feels an automatic surge of worry before he realizes that his resident isn’t about to unfasten his cufflinks. No, this time he’s just pulling at the fabric to ensure it’s as neat as he can possibly make it. “I am ready,” Shaun says, smiling at him. “Are you?”

“Only if you are,” he says, as Shaun nods, and they head back towards the ballroom.

(Neil doesn’t dwell upon the fact that his words were much more of a promise than the simple answer Shaun was looking for.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, it's the end of the gala - yes, I actually finished an arc! And it's a holiday arc, I know, but January counts as close enough to the holidays, right? For those curious, this story is about 2/3 of the way through, by my estimate (and those are always very accurate ;).
> 
> Morgan and Park feature heavily in this chapter and they're pretty much going to become an unofficial (though minor) secondary pairing.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is continuing to enjoy this story, you all keep me going! <3

Aaron Glassman must have been hovering by the main doors of the ballroom, because the moment Neil and Shaun step inside, he appears in front of them. (It’s really a roll of the dice, at this point, on who will bother them next.)

His worried eyes are focused only on Shaun when he says, “You two are still here.” (And maybe he’s taking lessons on stating the obvious from Shaun.) “I thought – I _hoped_ that you’d left.”

“We did not leave,” Shaun unnecessarily confirms.

“I can see that.” Now Aaron’s focused on Neil, slightly disapproving in a way that Neil doesn’t appreciate. “You can go home, though. I think that you’ve put in more than enough time tonight.” Though he seems to be talking to both of them, Neil knows the excuse is entirely for Shaun’s benefit.

“We are staying,” Shaun tells him. “There are people I have not talked to yet.”

Rather than appeasing the older man, every word seems to frustrate Aaron more. “I know Dr. Andrews told you that you had to stay until 11, but he has no authority to actually issue orders like that. So don’t feel like you have to stay on his account.”

It’s all Neil can do not to laugh at that. “When have I ever done anything voluntary because _Marcus_ wanted me to?”

“We’re not discussing your issues with authority, Neil – issues which you are in danger of passing on to your residents, by the way.”

“They’re insubordinate all on their own,” Neil counters. “They hardly need my help.”

“I told Neil that Dr. Andrews would be angry if we left the gala,” Shaun informs Aaron, “and he said that it would be a perk of leaving.”

“Now _that_ sounds like Neil.” Aaron sends him a sideways glance and mutters, in aside, “ _Issues_.” His concern hasn’t vanished, either, as evidenced by the way he turns back to Shaun and asks, “Are you alright?”

Shaun folds his hands in front of himself and nods. “I am fine. I’m going to say ‘no’ more.”

Aaron’s at a loss. “Okay?”

“It’s a good thing,” Shaun assures him, smiling at Neil.

“It is,” Neil agrees, relieved all over again at the knowledge that Shaun has decided to deliberately lighten his workload. (And that Neil technically has Morgan to thank for helping with something that’s been bothering him for months… Their world really does work in strange and mysterious ways, sometimes.) “He’s going to say ‘no’ to Marcus more often,” he tells Aaron, since Shaun doesn’t seem inclined to explain. “When it comes to…voluntary things.”

“Alright.” Aaron’s still not satisfied. “You should _both_ go home.”

Neil supposes he should be glad that Aaron hasn’t issued it as a direct order, but it irritates him all the same. “He just told you he’s fine, Aaron, and he wants to stay.” It takes some effort to lighten his tone, but he manages when he adds, “Since when can I make Murphy do something he doesn’t want to do?”

“You –” Aaron wisely stops whatever he was about to say, though Neil has a few educated guesses, most of them arguments that Neil _can_ , in fact, get Shaun to do things he doesn’t want to do. (And Aaron would merely be stating the truth if he chose to go that way, but they both know he won’t do it in front of Shaun.)

Over the past year (and the last few months, especially) Neil’s learned that the best methods of persuading Shaun have to do with logic – if he can come up with a rational argument for _anything_ , Shaun’s likely to agree. He’s also learned how to get him to comply with things he doesn’t necessarily like if they’re in his own best interest, and that usually goes back to logic, too. (Neil’s general favorite is some variation of ‘ _How can you care for our patients to the best of your ability if you don’t care for yourself to the best of your ability?_ ’) He’s also not above using emotional appeals: Shaun doesn’t tend to care if those appeals are concerns for  _him_ , but if they’re for someone he cares about – his friends, or Aaron, or Neil himself? That’s an entirely different story. All Neil would have to do is say he’s had enough of their gala and _Shaun_ would be the one insisting they leave.

Despite all of that, Neil’s very careful to never use anything he’s learned to manipulate or coerce Shaun into doing anything that’s truly against his will. And that holds true across any and all situations, with only one caveat – that Shaun’s well-being isn’t a factor. If Shaun hadn’t recovered during their time alone upstairs, or if he wanted to stay when it was clear it would be detrimental to him, Neil wouldn’t have any qualms about using every method at his disposal to get him to leave. But Shaun’s perfectly fine at the moment and he wants to stay. So they’re staying.

Perhaps Shaun’s picked up on the growing tension between the two men, because he takes a step closer to Aaron, emphasizing, “ _I_ want to remain at the gala.”

“I got that, Shaun.” Aaron’s voice holds the weariness of someone who’s had similar arguments dozens of times, across dozens of places – and that’s all it takes for Neil’s annoyance with him to fade. He knows, at the heart of everything, that Aaron’s only ever operating from one place when it comes to Shaun: the desire to make sure he’s okay. (And Neil happens to know that place incredibly well.)

“You do not want me to stay,” Shaun says flatly, now sounding as unhappy as Aaron.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to stay,” Aaron tries to explain. “It’s that I don’t want you to feel like you have to be here if it’s become…too difficult for you.” He looks at Shaun’s still-folded hands, causing Neil to recall that the other man had been present when Shaun couldn’t stop playing with his cufflinks earlier. (And of everyone, Aaron knows all too well where Shaun would have been heading if he hadn’t taken a break when he did.) “Are you going to try and tell me that you were fine the last time I saw you?”

“I was not,” Shaun says slowly, glancing at Neil. “I am now.”

“We both know how important these events are to you,” Aaron says quietly.

“More money means –”

“– less people die,” Aaron finishes. “And you’re right, Shaun. But it means that I worry when it comes to things like this – when you say that you’re fine… Are you sure you’re not stretching the truth, to yourself, in order to stay?”

Neil knows that Shaun isn’t (because he can _tell_ that he’s not), but he recognizes it’s been a valid concern in the past, so the answer is something Aaron needs to hear for himself – and directly from Shaun.

Shaun stares at his own hands for maybe fifteen seconds, and Neil gets the feeling he’s performing some kind of self-assessment in response to Aaron’s question. When he looks up at them again, he says firmly, “We all have to do things that we are not comfortable with, but I’m okay. If I needed to go home, I would have.” As Aaron’s concern somewhat eases, Shaun adds, “Neil offered to take me home several times.”

Aaron mutters to Neil, “You might have mentioned that.”

“You might have figured it out yourself,” Neil replies. “Did you really think I’d hold him hostage if he wanted to leave?”

“Neil would never hold me hostage,” Shaun asserts. “He is usually quite law-abiding.”

Aaron’s obviously amused by the sharp turn into left field their conversation’s taken. “ _Usually_?”

“He sometimes drives above the speed limit.”

“Or are the speed limits too low?” Neil muses.

 _Shaun’s actually ticking items off on his fingers._ “He often jaywalks.”

“There aren’t enough crosswalks around here!”

“He forgot to renew his driver’s license, despite my repeated reminders –”

“Harassment,” Neil interrupts. “Your repeated _harassment_.”

“– which means for two days at the start of this month, he had an expired license.”

“I take issue with that one,” Neil argues. “I didn’t drive when it was expired, so I wasn’t breaking the law.” He sends a censuring look Shaun’s way that he knows will have no effect (so he has no idea why he still does it, except maybe it’s habit). “I’m going to stop telling you things.”

“These are not things you have told me, merely things I’ve observed.”

“Careful, Shaun,” Aaron’s enjoying this to an unhealthy degree, “if you keep associating with delinquents like Neil, people might start believing _you_ have criminal tendencies.”

Shaun seems to be thinking that over as he studies Neil, then soberly announces, “I will continue to associate.”

“I’m so honored,” Neil says dryly, though his own smile greatly ruins the effect.

“I do not know what would happen to him without my influence,” Shaun says to Aaron.

“He’d probably end up in jail,” Aaron replies, complete with a rueful shake of his head in an _‘I can’t believe Neil’s life choices_ ’ sort of way.

“I can hear you,” Neil reminds them (though he needn’t have bothered, for all the effect it has).

“I have yet to see him commit a crime that would lead to imprisonment,” Shaun’s telling Aaron. “However, it is a fact that those who commit minor crimes are more likely to escalate to higher offenses, so theoretically –”

“Are you two having fun?” Neil interrupts. “Because _theoretically_ I could walk away from both of you and go…” He realizes, too late, that there’s no good way to end that sentence. After all, he wouldn’t leave the gala without Shaun.

Aaron knows it, too. “You could go…do what?”

Neil sighs in defeat because there’s pretty much only one option. “Talk to other people,” he mumbles.

“By all means.” Aaron sweeps a hand behind him, towards the ballroom that’s just as crowded as it was a half hour earlier. “Don’t let me or Shaun hold you back.”

“Why do you always have to call my bluff?” Neil complains. “You. And Murphy. And my residents.” His thoughts stray to everyone else in his life. “Well, and Marcus. Jess. Audrey…”

“You should practice bluffing,” Shaun suggests.

“I should find new friends,” Neil retorts. “It’d be a lot easier.”

Shaun slowly shakes his head. “You do not believe that. It is difficult to make real friends; you should hold on to them when you find them. That’s what I do.”

“You’re right. I was only kidding – I have no plans to drop any of my friends.” Neil pauses, considering. “At least, not right this moment. Every day is really a coin flip, though.”

Shaun clearly doesn’t believe _that_ , either, but he doesn’t get the chance to keep arguing because Aaron sighs as he pulls out his phone. “Marcus. Again.” He swipes away whatever notifications he’s gotten and returns it to his jacket pocket. “I meant to warn you both that he’s looking for you.”

That’s about the least helpful ‘warning’ Neil’s received all month. “We noticed by the way he’s been stalking us all evening. And enlisting others to do the same.”

“He cannot seem to do much without us,” Shaun agrees.

Aaron’s scanning their immediate vicinity, perhaps as surprised as Neil that after saying the other man’s name out loud, he hasn’t swooped in out of nowhere. “I told him to lay off. I don’t know if it was effective.”

“I’m going to take a wild guess that it wasn’t.” Neil holds up his phone to show Aaron that he’s gotten seven new texts from Marcus within the last five minutes. “Let’s read the latest one – ah, it’s a list of the various ways he’ll torture me if I don’t ‘return to the gala, ASAP’. How fun.”

“Nothing in that message sounds fun,” Shaun counters, having leaned over to read the text along with Neil. “He is being very antagonistic.”

“It’s because he’s annoyed that I’m not answering him.” Neil internally debates how wise it’d be to temporarily block his number before deciding it’s not worth listening to Marcus complain. Instead, he writes back, _This is your official notice that I’m getting a restraining order._ His phone starts vibrating within seconds of sending it, but Neil returns it to his pocket without reading the reply, because he’s not looking to have his good mood ruined.

“You threatened him with a restraining order, but you do not have legal grounds for one,” Shaun informs him.

“He irritates me. That’s legal grounds.”

“That is _not_ legal grounds.”

“It’s a joke, Shaun,” he says quickly, before his resident can start citing California state law.

“Is it a joke?” Aaron’s eyes are sharp on them, but he’s silently laughing at Neil’s predicament – he can _tell_.

“Mostly,” Neil mutters.

“Issuing a threat as a means of humor,” Shaun says thoughtfully. “You are overreacting to his messages and the humor comes from…your disproportionate response?”

“ _Disproportionate response_?” _Clearly, no one around here understands just how difficult his life truly is._ “I don’t think I can agree with your assessment, Murphy.”

Shaun seems slightly confused. “You said it was a joke.”

“Mostly a joke. _Mostly_. I don’t discount that one day I might have to go to extreme measures to get away from Andrews.” Neil glances at Aaron, who’s shaking his head (probably in exasperation), then at Shaun, who’s smiling now. “Don’t think I can’t see you, Murphy. Guess that means you see the humor in my joke, after all?”

“I am not smiling at you,” Shaun unsuccessfully tries to claim (and conveniently ignores Neil’s question) as he takes out his phone. “Dr. Andrews is texting me again.”

“That’s because I’m ignoring him again.” Neil looks around, but their Chief of Surgery is still nowhere in sight. “Someone he deems prestigious must have him cornered, or else he’d already be over here.”

“He would like us to join him.” Shaun’s craning his neck to try and see past the crowd. “He is at a table between the dance floor and the bar.”

“Tell him if he wants us, he can come find us.”

“I am not going to –” Shaun breaks off when Neil swipes the phone from his hand.

“Never mind, I’ll do it.” Neil starts typing as he asks, “What’s a suitably Murphy-esque response? How about… _If you don’t stop repeatedly texting me, I am going to follow the lead of my brilliant and infallible attending to issue a restraining order against you_.” He (wisely) hits send before Aaron or Shaun can react.

“Infallible?” Aaron’s voice sounds strangely choked.

“I like that you didn’t take issue with _brilliant_ ,” Neil laughs, as a return text almost instantaneously comes through: _Give Murphy back his phone_. “Uh oh. Somehow he knows that wasn’t you, Shaun.”

Shaun retrieves his phone, rapidly typing something as he scolds, “Now I have to apologize for you.”

“No, you really don’t,” Neil assures him.

“I do,” Shaun protests, as he sends his message. “I don’t want him to be upset with you.”

“It’s easier to give him reasons,” Neil says, ever practical. “He’ll always find _some_ thing to be upset with me about, warranted or not.”

“I am aware,” Shaun murmurs. “I do not like it.”

Neil reaches over to run his hand along Shaun’s arm. “I know you don’t.”

Shaun’s phone vibrates and he reads Marcus’s reply, his expression darkening. Whatever their boss has said, Shaun _more_ than doesn’t like it – he seems to outright hate it. He types out a brief reply, hitting the button to send it with unnecessary force.

“What did he say?” Aaron asks, frowning at Shaun’s unusual reaction to the message.

Shaun watches his phone for several more seconds, nodding with satisfaction when he doesn’t get a reply, and then looks at Neil. “He said that perhaps I need a break from you.”

Neil isn’t sure whether Marcus had said it as a joke, or as a means of getting Shaun to seek him out by himself, but apparently it doesn’t matter – Shaun’s reaction reveals that he’s unhappy either way.

“As usual, Marcus doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Neil reassures him. “After all, who would want to keep their distance from me?”

He’d said it to lighten the mood, but there’s no matching humor in Shaun’s voice when he resolutely says, “Not. Me.”

Neil’s gaze softens when he smiles at him in return; he doesn’t have to say the reverse is also true, because it’s something he’s said before, in a hundred different ways (and Shaun’s heard them all).

Aaron’s moving his eyes back and forth between them, like there’s something here he’s missing and he’ll find it if he only searches long enough. “So, I take it things are going well for you two? With…this…whole…” He makes some sort of gesture which Neil gathers is meant to encompass their relationship.

Neil surreptitiously looks around, making sure the three of them have relative privacy. “It’s fine, Aaron. I mean, as fine as a pretend relationship can be.”

“Right.” Aaron presses his mouth into a thin line and gives an exaggerated nod. “Pretend.”

Aside from Neil and Shaun, Aaron Glassman is the only one who knows that they aren’t _actually_ in a relationship. Shaun had told him everything – their whole plan and the reasons behind it – the first day they’d agreed to this, insisting that he couldn’t lie to Aaron, even by omission.

At first, Aaron had thought it was some kind of prank, and when it sank in that they were serious, he’d started throwing around words like ‘short-sighted’ and ‘impulsive’ and ‘crazy’. But despite his best efforts, he’d completely failed in his mission to talk them out of it.

Aaron’s disapproval had lasted for approximately a week before he did a complete 180, stating that not only was he in favor of their idea, but he would do whatever was necessary to ‘help them sell it’, which mostly consisted of loudly asking them things like ‘ _When are you going to move in together?_ ’ or ‘ _It’s your 57 day anniversary, isn’t it?’._ Aaron only tosses out his random, sometimes nonsensical questions when there are conveniently lots of people around – like when they’re waiting in line in the cafeteria, or when he needlessly stops by one of their department’s staff meetings.

Of course, Neil knows that Aaron doesn’t do it to ‘help’ them – he’s fairly sure the older man does it because he’s trying to make some kind of point, probably that even though he’s no longer actively against what they’re doing, he still doesn’t entirely approve. (And surprisingly, Shaun’s actually much better at rolling with Aaron’s questions than Neil is, so he generally lets his resident field them – when Neil had once asked why he didn’t find them difficult to answer, Shaun had explained it was easy to come up with responses if they were technically the truth.)

In light of all that, Aaron’s inquiry a minute ago had been abnormally subdued compared to his usual style – and that means he must genuinely want to know how they’re doing, which Neil can’t blame him for. Despite the other man’s enjoyment of good-naturedly harassing them, Neil’s pretty sure the reason Aaron came around to their plan at  _all_ was because he saw how much it helped Shaun (despite his initial misgivings).

“Things are good,” Shaun’s telling Aaron – another one of those ‘technically truthful’ answers he loves to give.

“Good,” Aaron repeats, without any affect.

Shaun nods in confirmation. “We’re both happy.”

Aaron hums noncommittally, letting silence fall for a few moments before he asks, “And is that pretend, too?”

Shaun’s expression clears, sharpening exponentially as he tries to determine what Aaron’s getting at. “No.” There’s an edge to his voice Neil doesn’t recognize. “It is not.”

Instead of replying to Shaun, Aaron turns his piercing gaze on Neil in silent question. Neil has the inexplicable urge to snap at him (for what, he doesn’t know), but he forces himself to remain calm when he repeats, “No, it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Aaron slowly echoes. “Funny how that works, isn’t it, Neil?”

“I do not see any humor in this conversation,” Shaun says, with no shortage of suspicion.

“Nor do I, Shaun,” Aaron assures him. Shaun doesn’t seem satisfied with that response (and neither is Neil, for that matter), but no one presses the issue any further.

Neil knows that Aaron’s questions are borne of leftover worry and concern from back when they’d first started this – even though it outwardly appears as if their feigned relationship has helped Shaun, Aaron wants to make sure he isn’t missing anything. (And he correctly trusts that Neil would tell him if he were.)

Neil thinks back to his conversation with Shaun up on the observation deck. The simple question Shaun had asked.

_Does this make you happy?_

And Neil’s equally simple answer in return.

 _Yes, it does_.

Shaun’s happiness when it comes to this has always been what mattered most to Neil, but then upstairs, Shaun had reminded him that it goes both ways: _Neil’s_ happiness is equally as important to _Shaun_.

 _Happiness_. Of all the places he’d ever thought he’d find it, he can definitively say that in a fake relationship with his most challenging resident is something that he’d never have imagined, not even in his wildest of far-off dreams.

Aaron seems like he’s about to say more, but the words are forever lost when Morgan wanders up to their group and demands, “Why are you all hanging out by the door? I wanted to –” She loses her train of thought when she happens to glance upward and something very close to _sheer delight_ crosses her face. “Would you look at that?”

The three men follow her gaze and _yes, this just makes Neil’s night complete_.

Mistletoe.

Aaron’s the only one of them with any sense, as evidenced by the way he issues a hasty, barely intelligible excuse before fleeing from their group and disappearing back into the depths of the ballroom. (He might as well have said that he has no desire to stick around and see what unfolds next – _he knows them all_ _so well_.)

Neil has half a mind to follow him, but he can’t, in good conscience, leave _anyone_ alone with Reznick under mistletoe. (Okay, that’s a lie, because he’d definitely abandon Andrews with her just for the awkward hilarity of it.) He’s also relatively certain that it hadn’t been there earlier, because Morgan definitely would have commented on it in an effort to see who she could make the most uncomfortable.

“It’s extremely professional to have that at a work event with all our colleagues,” Neil says sarcastically.

Morgan’s eyes light up, which should have clued him in to where her thoughts were going. “Since when does keeping things professional with colleagues matter to _you_ , Dr. Melendez?”

 _He can’t believe he set her up so perfectly._ And he can’t even chastise her for it, since (as far as everyone knows) she’s right. He can tell that she’s calculating whatever she’s about to say next, and he can only hope it doesn’t involve _anyone kissing anyone._

Of course, that’s right when she drawls, “Which one of you lucky gentlemen do I get to kiss?”

Shaun actually reels backwards, and in his horror, he neglects to check his surroundings and has the misfortune of backing straight into Park, who’d unknowingly been on a collision course in a path behind him.

Alex sets a steadying hand on his arm, keeping them both balanced. “Where’s the fire, Murphy?”

“There is no fire.” Shaun reaches for his absent tie, in a nervous gesture, and frowns when he remembers it’s gone, switching to pull at his cufflinks instead. “Morgan wants to kiss one of us.”

Alex makes an exaggerated show of waving towards the doors. “In that case, I’m sorry I blocked your exit. You should run while you still can.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Morgan punctuates each syllable with a clap. “You’re a goddamn riot, Park.” Her glacial expression has felled many, but her fellow resident doesn’t even blink. “Sorry that I’m the only one around here with any _holiday spirit_.”

“Holiday spirit should not involve _kissing_.” Shaun’s tone perfectly matches how horrified he’d looked moments earlier.

“You’ve never experienced _my_ version of holiday spirit,” she smirks, blowing him a kiss that causes him to take another step back, then flicks her eyes up at the mistletoe. “No takers? You’re all missing out.” Despite the plaintive whining, it’s apparent to everyone that she’s keeping this up because they’d rather be anywhere else. (Or at least, Neil knows it’s true for him and Shaun – he can never tell much with Park.)

Shaun eyes Morgan warily, like he’s genuinely afraid she’s going to lunge at him any moment. “I am not kissing you,” he announces, loudly enough that a few people talking nearby glance over in confusion. (Or maybe amusement.) He edges another step towards the exit, but Park’s not in his way anymore, so Neil reaches out to grab Shaun’s elbow and pull him back. (He’s half-convinced if Shaun gets enough momentum he might keep going and leave after all.)

“I appreciate how thoroughly appalled you are,” Morgan’s telling Shaun, complete with theatrical pouting. “It’s not at all insulting.”

“I do _not_ kiss people,” Shaun explains. “I do not like –”

Neil loudly clears his throat, Shaun abruptly stops talking, and Alex looks between them without any hint of what he’s thinking.

Morgan furrows her brow in confusion. “You don’t kiss people?” She flips a hand out to indicate she’s referring to Neil, and he’s relieved there’s no actual _question_ in the teasing. She must think Shaun is just…being Shaun.

“Dr. Melendez is not…people,” Shaun says carefully. “He is Neil.”

“Hey! I’m a person.” Neil’s protest is fairly mild, because he knows what Shaun is trying to say. It’s an echo of their conversation from upstairs, and it actually means _a lot_ to hear from Shaun.

“You are not _them_.” Shaun’s eyes sweep over the ballroom, across the hundreds of people in attendance tonight.

Neil’s about to reply, let him know he _understands_ , but Shaun has already turned back to Morgan, who’s suggesting –

“Why don’t you two kiss right now?”

 _Damn, he knew it._ He _knew_ she might get to this point, and he vigorously shakes his head while trying to determine a way out of this. “Shaun is not comfortable with –”

“Oh come on!” she tries to cajole them. “It’s tradition. For good luck and future happiness and all that other probably made-up stuff. I’m sure Shaun knows this already. He knows _everything_.”

“It is tradition,” Shaun says, nodding. “Morgan is correct.”

“See, he doesn’t want –” Then Neil registers what Shaun’s said. Because it sounds an awful lot like _agreement_ with Morgan. “ _What_?”

“One of the main origins of the tradition was to bless a couple with fertility,” Shaun adds.

Morgan squints at them, as if she’s giving the matter great thought. “Yeah, I don’t think all the mistletoe in the world would let you two have a baby.”

“On the contrary,” Shaun says, “we could both –”

“Biologically with _each other_ ,” she groans, like she can’t believe she has to explain.

“Oh, yes,” Shaun amiably agrees. “It would not.”

“You could always adopt,” Park suggests, which sparks Morgan to chime in that she’s always liked that idea, and Neil has no idea when he lost control of this conversation, but he thinks it was a long time ago. ( _Maybe it was over a year ago, back when he first got assigned to all these people_.)

He definitely needs to get a handle on things before they start planning his and Shaun’s _entire future family_ , but that’s when Morgan inadvertently solves the problem for him – unfortunately, it’s by reminding everyone of their previous topic.

“I’m waitinnng,” she needles, making a show of putting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot. Neil figures it’s probably a toss-up on what’s more to blame for her persistence: the amount of champagne she’s consumed or the fact that she’s thoroughly enjoying antagonizing them. “You two don’t want to curse your relationship with terrible luck, do you?”

Suddenly the only thing Neil wants is distance from her, because she’s incredibly hard to distract once she gets an idea in her head, so barring something drastic, she’s not going to let this go. And that means Shaun’s probably going to try and ‘solve’ things by doing his best to convince her and Park that they’re in a happy relationship, and she’s too adept at picking up on their cues (even slightly inebriated) so Neil will have to do something to cover, or risk the truth coming out that they _aren’t together_ in the worst time and place possible. And _that_ means he’ll probably think about doing something completely insane, like kissing Shaun – _just to convince them of course_ – and what would Shaun’s reaction be? Would he get upset? Would he go along with it to try and fool them? Would he think Neil had _completely lost his mind_ , which is exactly what it’s starting to feel like?

Morgan’s looking expectantly between them, but her smile is dimming, and Neil can practically see the way she’s piecing things together in her head.

“There is no such thing as luck, either good or bad,” Shaun says primly. “There is no such thing as being ‘cursed’, either. However, I do not deny that people _believing_ such things can influence their actions and behaviors.”

Morgan presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose and sighs. “Too late, you’re cursed.”

Shaun fidgets, and despite declaring that he doesn’t believe in curses, he’s clearly irritated with her. He unfastens and refastens his cufflinks, then says briskly, “You cannot be cursed if curses do not exist.”

She’s on a roll now, though, and won’t back down. “Sounds like what someone who’s cursed would say if they were in denial. Anyways, it’s really not a big deal if you don’t want to kiss each other. If there’s some kind of trouble in paradise I’m missing here, then I apologize.” Neil figures that last line, delivered too sweetly, was a deliberate shot to get a reaction out of them.

_And it works._

“Neil and I kiss,” Shaun’s begun insisting. “All the time. Because we are in a relationship.” _Oh no, he’s trying to convince her, and exactly what Neil feared would happen is happening._ “We are never _not_ kiss–”

“Murphy.” Neil wraps a hand around Shaun’s wrist to help calm him. “She gets it.”

Shaun takes a deliberate breath, staring at Neil’s hand. “I do not think she does.”

“You’re both acting really strange about this.” She’s glancing between them, far too perceptive for her own good. “And I’m not talking about the baseline level of strange I expect from both of you. This seems…different.” She looks at Alex. “Don’t you agree?”

“You’re making them uncomfortable,” Park says flatly, and while it’s mostly a rebuke, it’s also _not_ a refutation of the accusation she’d made – and Neil knows him well enough to know that it means he finds their behavior odd, too. He’s wise enough not to say it out loud, but if Neil can interpret his response, that means Morgan can, as well.

 _This is what happens when they spend too much time with people_. Neil finds it ironic that when they act like their normal selves, everyone thinks they’re together. But when they try to _insist_ that they are, that’s when people get suspicious. (He’ll never understand it.)

“I’m sorry that telling the truth makes people uncomfortable.” Despite her claim, Morgan doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. “And I was only pointing out the beliefs behind a holiday tradition.”

“Exactly. You are telling us what people _believe_ ,” Shaun stresses. “You are not telling the objective truth, which is that luck and curses do not exist, no matter how much you illogically insist that they do.”

It’s clear she wants to argue (probably just for the enjoyment of arguing), but she happens to glance at Park and some kind of look passes between them that Neil can’t interpret. The end result is that (by some miracle) she keeps her mouth shut.

Neil studies Shaun where he’s still standing under the mistletoe, illuminated by the colorful lights around the doorway. He takes in the younger man’s rigid posture and increasing discontent, both signs of his aggravation that he _knows_ he’s right, but can’t prove it to Morgan (mostly because she doesn’t want to hear it). Shaun’s letting her get to him, which is always the first mistake when it comes to Morgan (and Shaun _knows_ that, but for whatever reason tonight he’s unable to help it).

For the briefest of moments, Neil thinks about what it’d be like if they were in a _real_ relationship. What it’d be like to lean into Shaun, right here, right now, and kiss him until his irritation and anger vanished. Until he forgot about his annoyance with Morgan, with their conversation…with the entire evening.

He wonders what it’d be like to make him forget _everything_.

He tries to ignore that thought as soon as it crosses his mind because _their relationship isn’t real_ – at least, not in the way that everyone thinks it is.

“You’ve never believed in luck, Murphy?” he asks, partly to distract himself and partly because he’s curious about the answer.

Shaun turns his full attention to Neil, and even something that minor has consequences: his entire demeanor slowly changes. Neil sees it in the way he drops his shoulders, in the way the lines of tension in him begin to ease.

Mostly, he sees it in the way the unhappiness starts fading from his eyes.

Shaun moves a step closer to him and says, seriously, “I believe in…making good choices. That will lead to good outcomes.”

“That’s called making your own luck.”

“That is an expression which has nothing to do with what Morgan was inaccurately claiming.” Shaun ignores her huff of annoyance to explain, “True luck presupposes no action on an individual’s part. It simply…is. Or is not. So in that sense, it is not real.”

Neil makes sure to choose his next words carefully, since he’s more on Morgan’s side of the debate (though unlike her, he’s not looking for an actual fight). “We’ve all experienced…unusual things. People who spontaneously recover or get better by no means which we can explain. There are any number of names for it: coincidences, miracles, happenstance…luck.”

“Just because we cannot explain it does not mean there isn’t a reason.” Shaun’s directed that at Morgan, and Neil half-expects her to start in again, but she’s merely watching them with interest. “Attributing things to ‘luck’,” Shaun continues, “is one of the ways the human mind tries to impose order on a random and chaotic world.”

“You’re probably right,” Neil concedes, “in the strictest sense. But…some part of me will always believe in things we can’t explain.” He knows Shaun’s next question will be ‘ _Why?_ ’ and answers it before his resident even speaks. “Because I _want_ to believe, Shaun.”

Now, Shaun’s the one studying him. “So…you believe in luck?”

“I’ll take anything that helps me, or my patients, if we happen to need it. Besides, like you said, it can influence people’s thoughts and behaviors. It can help them. Psychologically. Emotionally.”

“It can hurt them, too.”

“If they take it to extremes, sure. But that’s true of anything. And I don’t think that occasionally believing in luck is going to hurt me.” He sends Shaun a pointed look. “Nor would it hurt you.”

Shaun considers that before allowing, “Probably not. That still does not mean I’m going to believe in something irrational simply because it ‘would not hurt me’.”

“No one’s saying you have to,” Neil assures him, and he has no conscious plans to say what he does next, more surprised than not when he hears his own voice: “However, _I’m_ never against trying to tip luck in my favor, if I can help it.”

“You’re not.” Shaun issues it as a statement, not a question.

Neil shakes his head, and Shaun’s smiling now, which is a marked change from a few minutes earlier, during his similar argument with Morgan. It’s like he’s almost entirely forgotten his aggravation from before. (The difference, Neil supposes, is that he’s no longer concerned with who’s right or wrong – he’s simply enjoying the debate for itself.)

And Neil thinks to himself, _If something as inconsequential as this can effect such a change in Shaun’s mood, then what if…_

He has no idea who moves first (which probably means they do it at the same time), but the next moment, they’re leaning into each other, and the press of his mouth against Shaun’s hits him with an actual jolt, a spark of lightning flashing across his mind that he can’t find the right words to describe. He distantly registers that his life has somehow become a romantic movie cliché ( _kissing under the mistletoe, at a work event, in front of everyone_ – _and why does none of that matter to him?_ ). An undeniable feeling of electricity, of _warmth_ , spreads everywhere in him, and even though it’s been a long time since he kissed someone, he thinks he’d remember if it had ever felt like this.

The next second, Shaun freezes in a way that’s definitely not natural, and Neil guesses that his resident’s realizing this was a crazy thing to do, that he’s second-guessing his actions (which is what Neil should be doing, make no mistake). He’s about to step back when Shaun inhales sharply and then moves closer, angling his head to increase the contact between them, and Neil’s momentarily distracted from his own whirlwind of emotions for long enough to realize that _he was right_. He can feel the last of Shaun’s tension vanish in the way the younger man relaxes against him, and the most insane part of his mind considers deepening the kiss, but that’s (obviously) when Morgan starts heckling them in the background.

“You call that a kiss?” she’s demanding. “I kiss my grandmother with more passion than –” She yelps in outrage and Neil learns why a moment later when she starts exaggeratedly whining that Alex ‘attacked her’ (read: elbowed her in the side to get her to be quiet).

“Clearly, it didn’t work because you’re _still talking_ ,” Park complains, and Neil starts laughing _because he can’t help it_.

He presses a final kiss to the edge of Shaun’s mouth in silent apology for their friends and carefully moves back while searching his face for any sign of discomfort or unhappiness. When he finds none, he sighs in overwhelming relief that their kiss hasn’t just screwed up the best relationship he currently has in his life. (One of the best ones he’s _ever_ had, come to think of it.)

“Now we’ll have good luck,” Shaun says, matter of factly. Before Neil can remind him that he doesn’t believe in luck, Shaun turns to Morgan, apparently fascinated by her declaration. “You kiss your grandmother in a similar fashion?”

“Uh…no.” Her face is turning slightly red, and her whining hasn’t stopped, either. “It’s an expression, Shaun.”

“I’ve never heard it,” Shaun proclaims.

“That’s because no one says it,” Alex confirms, reaching out a hand to grasp Morgan’s arm when she tries to elbow him, either for the comment or in belated retaliation for when he did it to her. “Stop trying to use them for your own entertainment,” he admonishes her.

“Well, it’s not like anyone’s kissing _me_ ,” she complains, rather dramatically, as she shakes off his hold. “I’m starting to feel lonely and it’s disheartening, especially at this time of year.” She futilely looks around before her eyes land back on Alex, taking on a mischievous light. “At this rate, I’m going to have to settle for _you_ as a last resort.”

It’s a rare miscalculation on her part, trying to bring him into this, because Park’s level-headed to a point that makes even Neil envious (so trying to cause him any sort of discomfort is a lost cause).

And just as Neil predicted, it doesn’t work. All Park does is assess her in his usual, detached manner before saying coolly, “You would be so lucky, Reznick.”

“What!” she snaps, immediately irritated by his easy dismissal. “ _You’d_ be the lucky one. Trust me.”

“What is this?” Neil mutters, in aside to Shaun, as the two second-years begin bickering over which one of them would be luckier. “What’s happening here?”

Shaun makes no similar effort to lower his voice. “They both think they would be lucky to kiss each other.”

The argument before them stops cold, with two heads swiveling immediately in Shaun’s direction. The pause is almost comical as they struggle to process the conclusion he’s reached.

“You’re twisting our words,” Park finally says (and at least he’s striving for diplomatic).

“Yeah, that is _not_ what we said!” Morgan’s tone is shrill, even for her (and that’s saying something).

Shaun shrugs, unmoved by their protests. “It’s what I heard.”

Neil’s not about to let this opportunity pass him by, not when he and Shaun have had to put up with months of grief from Morgan (and if Park happens to be collateral damage here, then so be it). “I’m going to have to back up Shaun on this,” he tells them, as Park rubs his eyes and Morgan narrows hers.

“Register my complete and utter shock that you’d take Murphy’s side,” she gripes.

Neil knows he’s not doing a great job of keeping a straight face, but the effort’s there. “I think you’re both protesting too much.”

“Save the psychoanalysis,” she orders, rather sharply. “You’re terrible at it.”

“Alright,” Park sighs, overly loud, “there’s only one way to prove that they’re wrong and we don’t actually want to kiss each other.” He pauses dramatically. “We’ll have to kiss.”

“You – wha – I –” Morgan’s barely able to form a coherent word and it’s a fascinating thing to witness.

“You’ve rendered her practically speechless.” Neil doesn’t bother hiding his admiration. “Let’s make sure we all savor this moment.”

“Are you crazy?” she finally manages to hiss at Park. “We have to kiss to prove we _don’t_ want to kiss? What kind of logic is that?!”

“It makes perfect sense to me,” Neil chimes in, even though it might be one of the most ridiculous things he’s ever heard (which means Park had said it on purpose to get a reaction out of her – and it’s definitely working).

She’s back to borderline sulking. “And you’re all acting like I’m desperate or something!”

“You aren’t?” Shaun asks, as Neil coughs to cover his laughter and has to strategically glance away so that he doesn’t completely lose his composure.

“You’re the one who first suggested it,” Alex reminds her, and though Neil can tell the other man is vastly amused by now, Morgan’s still thrown enough that she fails to notice how her fellow resident has deliberately turned her own game around on her.

“It was a joke. I was _joking_.” She points accusingly at Neil. “See what you’ve done? You and Murphy have obliterated the boundaries between co-workers around here. Boss and subordinate, resident and resident –” She flings her arms out in dismay, and would have hit Park in the process if he didn’t automatically block her (this time unintentional) hit. “– everything’s chaos!”

Neil feels absolutely no guilt for enjoying how flustered she is – not when she relishes putting others in the exact same state. Still, this can only go on for so long, and if she’s never going to figure it out on her own… “I’m glad you’re not overreacting to Park calling your bluff.”

In the ensuing silence, she opens and closes her mouth a few times, and he can see the gears turning as she realizes (too late) what her colleague had done. “I wasn’t over–” She cuts herself off, then turns to Alex and tries to claim, “I knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Sure,” he archly agrees, “we could tell by your inability to speak.”

“You’re misremembering,” she insists, pressing her lips together, but it does nothing to hide the fact that she wants to smile.

“Stop making it so easy,” Park tells her, leaning over to kiss her cheek, and she gives up trying to check her smile altogether. “Why don’t we go dance?”

“You’re just trying to get me to stop harassing them,” she accuses, nodding at Neil and Shaun. “I know how you operate.” (And Neil has the abrupt revelation that Park _had_ expertly taken the focus off of them, gaining Morgan’s undivided attention in a way that he’s seen few others ever manage to do.)

“Oh, _now_ you know, but five seconds ago you had no clue?” Park’s rolling his eyes. “Got it.”

“You have already danced together three times,” Shaun tells them, in case they’ve lost count.

“There’s good reason for that, Shaun,” Park says gravely. “I might be the only person here who can stand her for longer than two consecutive minutes. She really has no other options.”

“Wait,” Morgan slyly begins, “so you’re saying that I only spend time with you because you’re literally my last resort?” She’s enjoying his slip way too much. “You realize that you went full circle there and insulted yourself?”

Park thinks about that for a few seconds. “Damn, you’re right. But you’re still lucky that I _let_ you spend time with me.”

“No,” she instantly protests, “ _you’re_ the lucky –”

“Can we not have this argument again?” Neil pleads. “I don’t get paid enough for…” He glances between them. “…whatever this is.”

“And he gets paid a lot,” Shaun helpfully supplies.

Park doesn’t laugh, but it’s a near thing. “Alright, Reznick, are you coming with me or should I go find someone more pleasant?”

“Fine. Yes.” She holds up a finger. “As long as you remember my stipulations?” Before he can answer, she starts rattling off a list of demands including (but not limited to) if someone who’s ‘actually important’ wants to dance with her, he has to relinquish her without a fight.

“Alex,” Neil says lowly, as Morgan keeps listing her rules, “thank you.” It’s meant for several things, including distracting her earlier and taking her off their hands right now…although he’s starting to get the feeling that maybe nothing about this is any hardship for Park, after all.

“Do me a favor?” Park smiles wryly. “If you never hear from her again, forget that I was the last person you saw with her.”

“Jokes like that aren’t disconcerting at all to hear from a former cop,” Morgan informs him, and despite the scolding tone, she’s on the verge of laughing. “Also, I would haunt you forever.”

“Talk about a plan backfiring,” he mutters, pushing her ahead of him, off towards the dance floor.

The moment they’re out of sight, Neil turns back to Shaun. “I’m not quite sure what that was, but I liked seeing her off-kilter, for once.”

“He does that to her all the time,” Shaun says, like it’s something he should have noticed. “You should pay more attention.”

Neil has no idea if he’s being admonished or not. “I pay plenty of attention.”

“Yes. To your job. To our patients. To _me_.” Shaun’s looking in the direction their friends had disappeared. “That’s about it.”

Neil wonders if Shaun has a valid point (probably, he _is_ Shaun). “Maybe I have my priorities straight. Morgan and Park’s –” he casts about for the best word, “– friendship? Is not one of them, as entertaining as it might be.”

“They enjoy pretending as if they dislike each other, but I don’t know why. It’s never convincing.” Shaun shrugs, and then adds, “ _I_ am just glad neither of us had to kiss her.”

The sudden topic change jars Neil into remembering that _they_ were the ones who kissed each other, and they should probably talk about it. “Shaun, about that…”

“I think our kiss convinced Morgan,” Shaun says, before he can go on. “She should leave us alone now.”

Neil tilts his head assessingly and forgets everything he’d been about to say. “That was your motivation?”

“She would not stop bothering us. It seemed like the best solution.”

“It _did_?”

“It worked, which means it was a good solution.”

“Let me try again,” Neil wants to be sure they’re very clear on this point, “that’s the _only_ reason you did it?”

“That, and luck.”

Neil suddenly remembers what he’d wanted to say earlier, before the subject changed. “You don’t believe in luck.”

“You do,” Shaun says simply, “and that is enough reason. For me.”

Shaun doesn’t often leave him speechless, but that… _that does_. (And Neil inexplicably feels like kissing him all over again.)

“I assumed you did it to convince Morgan, as well,” Shaun’s saying, which causes Neil to realize he’d never offered a reason of his own.

“No.” It had crossed his mind at one point, but in the moment, it wasn’t what he’d been thinking (for the part of him that had been consciously thinking at all).

Shaun’s struggling to understand. “If it wasn’t to convince Morgan, was it because of what she said? About tradition and luck?”

“That was part of it,” Neil carefully allows, and it’d be easy to just say yes and leave it at that, to let Shaun think that was the only reason, but it’s not entirely fair. Because while it had been on his mind at the time, it hadn’t been his main reason. He’d done it because… “I thought it would help.” It sounds crazy, saying it out loud, but it’s the truth.

Shaun’s not following him. “Help what?”

“ _You_.” That’s what it always comes back to. It seems he can’t do anything without considering how it will impact (or benefit) Shaun. “You were upset with Morgan, and then when you and I began talking, it was like your agitation started to…disappear. I thought that if I kissed you, then it might help you let go of it entirely.” He shrugs, somewhat lost at his own explanation. “I thought…it’d help you forget.”

Shaun takes that in, glancing up at the mistletoe, then back at Neil. “You did it for me.”

“I had good intentions, but it was admittedly outside of the boundaries for friends.” (Whatever boundaries they still have, that is.)

“Because friends do not kiss each other.”

Neil laughs a little at that. “Not generally, no.”

“But…we are friends.”

“Always,” Neil promises, rather vehemently. “We will always be friends. No matter what.”

“Then by that logical progression, friends _do_ kiss each other,” Shaun says, seeming satisfied with that conclusion. “If they want to.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, because if Shaun’s fine with what happened, then Neil is, too. (It’s really, usually, that simple.)

“And it did help me,” Shaun’s continuing. “When we kissed, I was not thinking about Morgan.”

Neil abruptly laughs again. “I would hope not. Because if you were, then I’d recommend that the two of you have a conversation.”

“I do not like Morgan romantically,” Shaun tells him, apparently feeling the point needs clarification.

“Who could?” Neil asks flippantly, more out of habit than anything else.

“I told you that you need to pay more attention.”

It takes Neil a few moments to realize he’s reiterating his point from earlier, and now Shaun’s looking in the direction of the dance floor, and…

“No. _No_.” Neil adamantly shakes his head – he has enough problems figuring out his own life, he can’t add every single resident to the list, too. “I’m not getting involved in that.”

“Did they _ask_ you to get involved?” Shaun’s interest is piqued. “That would be highly irregular, although there are people who enjoy –”

“Please stop wherever you’re going with that.” Neil’s used to following Shaun’s unusual jumps in logic, but that one is going too far for him to entertain.

Shaun’s nodding, mostly to himself. “I think they will be fine without you.”

“We can only hope,” Neil agrees, and when Shaun smiles at him, he again finds that he has to remind himself…

_This isn’t real._

What he and Shaun have, what they present to the world – _it isn’t real_. What they _do_ have is friendship. A close friendship, to be sure, but that’s it. And it’s not hard to figure out why he sometimes finds himself slipping into the wrong mindset – it’s because he cares about Shaun immensely. And it doesn’t help matters that everyone they know thinks (and acts like) they’re actually together. As such, it’s natural that he’d sometimes get confused, like he had earlier when they kissed. It’s natural that he’d sometimes think… _what if_.

However, he knows those are just stray thoughts and nothing more. And it’s not like there would ever be real potential between him and Shaun even if he wanted that, because Shaun has no interest in a romantic relationship – not just with Neil, but with _anyone_. He’s said as much, time and time again. He’d even driven the point home when he explained his motivations for kissing Neil – there had been no hidden feelings in it, just equal parts desire to quiet Morgan and to help secure them some good luck. And all of that is perfectly fine with Neil, because he’s content with the way his life is right now. At times, he thinks he never wants _anything_ to change, even though he knows that’s unrealistic, because he and Shaun will eventually have to break up – or rather, they’ll have to _stage_ a fake break-up. (Which is something they should seriously talk about soon and not just brush off to some distant date and time, like they’d done earlier this evening.)

Deep down, he knows why he hasn’t pushed Shaun on that subject more. Why he hasn’t made them confront the reality of what they’re doing and acknowledge that it will eventually have to end. It’s because there are consequences to a break-up – even a fake one. The worst of them is that he and Shaun would be expected to spend some time apart, and even if they insisted to everyone that they were ‘still friends’, they could never get away with acting the way they do nowadays. And it’s all the worse, because they don’t try to do anything to convince people they’re together, this is just how they _are_. So if ( _when_ ) they stage a break-up, they’ll have to go out of their way to put distance between themselves. They’ll have to make an effort to try and pretend like they no longer care about each other as much as they do.

He’d touched upon similar thoughts when he and Shaun were alone on the observation deck, but they hit him even harder now: he doesn’t _want_ to stop acting the way he does with Shaun. He could willingly put distance between himself and anyone he knows _except_ Shaun. That’s what it always comes down to. It was why he’d never been able to keep their interactions strictly professional; why he’d allowed them to become as close as they had; why he’d thought up this fake relationship idea and then followed through with it (and maybe Aaron had been right on that front, maybe they really were crazy). Ultimately, it’s why he’s unwilling to end things – he’s just not ready to pretend like he doesn’t enjoy spending time with Shaun, never mind actually avoid him for some predetermined length of time.

(And what if he’s never ready? What if he’s never willing to let Shaun go? _What would he do then?_ )

Neil pushes those questions aside, mostly because he doesn’t want to face them. He’s good at avoiding things; he’s had decades to practice. If they’re both happy with the way things are, then what does it matter? They can just continue this…indefinitely. Until whatever bridge in the future they have to cross. (And Neil will deal with that when the time comes and not before – he _can’t_ deal with it before, for the simple fact that he doesn’t know how.)

One of the few benefits of their gala, at least, is that it’s easy for Neil to distract himself with other people. Over the course of the next hour, he and Shaun speak with another handful of donors, avoid Marcus as best they can (which means usually not very well), and generally enjoy each other’s company the way they have for the entire evening thus far.

It’s closing in on midnight when Marcus sits down at their table, the same one near the wall that they’d been at two hours earlier. Shaun’s moved his chair over so that he can lean against Neil’s side, looking about as tired as Neil feels. (They’re fast approaching the point where he’s going to call it a night if Shaun doesn’t do it soon.) They’ve just been left by a few people that Neil’s sure they’ve gotten on board to supporting their hospital, and that combined with his growing exhaustion means he’s in no mood for unwarranted criticism from Marcus.

To his surprise, though, when Marcus leans back in his chair, watching them, Neil can’t find any censure in his eyes.

“You’re both here unusually late,” Marcus says, gesturing at them with his nearly empty glass. “I’ve never seen that from you, Neil.”

Neil’s well-aware that Marcus is implying he’s only here this late because of Shaun (which happens to be the truth). “Things are different now.”

“I know what you mean,” Marcus solemnly agrees, as he flicks a glance a few tables over where his wife is laughing with Jessica over something or other. “About things being different.”

Shaun sits up straighter in his chair, stretching his arms. “Who raised the most money?” he asks pointedly, as if the three of them don’t already know the answer.

“You two,” Marcus says, without even a hint of the reluctance Neil’s used to when the other man has to admit something in his favor. “You did exactly what you said you would, going above and beyond even what _I_ expected from either of you. And that’s not easy to do.”

“Tell me about it,” Neil mutters. “Is this the part where you take all the credit because you taught us your ‘strategies for success’ or whatever you call it?”

Marcus sends him an arch look. “This is the part where I inform you it was one of the best fundraisers Saint Bonaventure has ever had. It’s the part where I tell you that the board and I are incredibly pleased with you both. That we’re appreciative. And we’re grateful.”

“ _Appreciative_ and _grateful_ mean the same thing,” Shaun points out.

It’s twenty seconds into the conversation and Marcus _already_ looks like he regrets seeking them out – it must be some kind of new record. “Just take the win and our thanks, Murphy.”

“You are welcome. But you don’t have to thank me for something I wanted to do.”

“Yes,” Marcus insists, nodding at Neil to let him know he’s included in that, “I do.”

“We’re happy we made a difference,” Neil tells him. “And as you said, it’s getting pretty late, so…”

Marcus, of course, ignores the hint that Neil wants to get out of there. “I know you both have the day off tomorrow,” he begins, “but what do you say to a late lunch with some of our benefactors? A few friends of mine couldn’t make it tonight, but they’re free for lunch tomorrow and I told them they should meet one of our rising stars.”

“It’s kind of you to speak so highly of me,” Neil grins at him, “but I wasn’t aware I could rise any higher.”

Marcus starts to roll his eyes, but turns it into staring at the ceiling, probably in an attempt to remain professional. “I was referring to Shaun.” He finishes the last of his drink and sets it on the table. “Though you were part of that invitation, Neil, as always.” His eyes are unmistakably bright when he adds, “Wherever one of you goes, the other inevitably follows.”

“No,” Shaun interrupts their conversation.

Marcus pauses, unused to that answer from Shaun. “…No?”

“As you said, tomorrow is our day off.” He’d started by speaking slowly, but is quickly gaining momentum. “I cannot speak for Neil, but I do not want to go to lunch with donors. If you would like, I will meet with them later this week. At the hospital.”

When Marcus glances at Neil for his input, he confirms, “That goes for both of us.”

Marcus seems a little puzzled, but rather than try to convince them (or worse, lecture them) he merely takes it in stride. “Okay, I’ll set it up and let you know.” He gets to his feet when he hears his wife calling to him. “I want you both to enjoy your day off and get some well-earned rest,” he generously allows, as if _he’s_ the one who decided they shouldn’t have a working lunch the next day.

“We will,” Shaun says, as Marcus nods at them and leaves.

“I love that Andrews feels like he’s doing us a favor by letting us keep our day off as an _actual_ day off.” Neil turns to Shaun, unable to help his smile at how pleased his resident is with himself. “Good job saying no, Murphy.”

“I enjoyed it very much.” Shaun’s voice is bordering on excited at this new world of possibilities. “I think I’m going to say it a lot more.”

“So long as it’s not to me.”

Shaun won’t let that slide. “That depends on what you are asking.”

Neil thinks about it. “So all I have to do is ask questions where I know the answer is yes? That’s easy. How about this: am I your favorite attending?”

Shaun stares at him for a few seconds. “You are my _only_ attending.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Neil smirks at him while Shaun seems distinctly unimpressed. “Second question: did you enjoy tonight?”

Shaun seriously considers the question before nodding. “I did. Many aspects of it were still difficult, but as I’ve told you…you make things easier. I also liked spending time with our friends. And raising money.”

“More money means less people die,” Neil says, in a rare instance where he beats Shaun to the punch.

“Less people die,” Shaun repeats in affirmation.

“I was surprised to find myself enjoying the gala, too,” Neil tells him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m never going to love this kind of thing –”

“Nor will I,” Shaun interjects.

Neil smiles and taps his fingers on the back of Shaun’s hand in acknowledgement. “I know. But I liked it a lot more than I thought was possible before tonight. And that’s mostly because of you.”

“Then we feel exactly the same way,” Shaun tells him, and sometimes Neil wonders how they got here, to this place where they’ve become such close friends. Where they care about each other as much as they do. (Though maybe the _how_ doesn’t matter as much as the fact that they made it here at all – and Neil’s incredibly glad that they did.)

“Alright, third and final question. And probably the easiest one.” Neil settles back in his chair, taking out his phone, and when Shaun leans into his side again, he angles it towards him. “What do you say, Murphy,” he pulls up the app for his car service, “want to get out of here?”

Shaun doesn’t hesitate for that question at all, smiling against Neil’s shoulder when he answers, “Yes. I do.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This begins a new arc which will span a few chapters - after that, things _should_ be winding towards the end. (Yes, I do have an ending in sight and the vaguest of plans on how to get there. ;) As always, thanks so much to everyone for the feedback and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

“You. Are. Pathetic.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Neil studiously avoids looking in Audrey’s direction. “On anything?”

She’s smirking at him – he’s not even facing her and he can _tell_. “I’ve found that when you don’t ask is when you need my input the most.”

He drops his phone onto the couch next to him and finally spares her a glance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Let me rephrase it so that you understand me better.” She begins speaking even more obnoxiously slowly than she had been before: “You are _extremely_ pathetic.”

Neil launches a throw pillow at her head after deciding that offense is the best defense – she deftly deflects it with an elbow.

“Compelling argument.” She’s entirely unfazed by his attack as she neatly crosses her legs on the couch opposite him. “I’m effectively swayed.”

“I’m well-known for my powers of persuasion,” he agrees, picking up his phone again and trying to conceal a frown when he still sees no new messages. (Showing any kind of reaction definitely won’t help his cause.)

He and Audrey are in New York, at _the most interminable medical conference on the planet_. For starters, it’s five days long. _Five. Days_. On top of that, they’d had to fly out a day early to avoid storms in the northeast, and based on current weather forecasts, their return trip on Sunday is most likely going to be delayed, as well. That means, when all is said and done, it’s looking like this trip will be almost a full week long. (Though does the length really matter when Neil’s finite supply of patience ran out somewhere around six minutes after he boarded the plane?)

He usually doesn’t mind conferences because they have numerous benefits: they’re great for reviewing the latest advancements and techniques; they let him reconnect with colleagues and friends in his field who are based outside of California; they can even substitute for vacations, with everything paid for while also providing him a respite from Saint Bonaventure (and his irritating colleagues – or at least the ones he doesn’t have to occasionally drag along with him).

This conference is different, though. It spans too many days, for one thing (he likes the ones that last two or three days max – the equivalent of a long weekend). There are also too many ‘required’ dinners and meetings and panels. And there are just too many people around; there’s nowhere he can find peace except in his own hotel room – and half the time not even then, with the way people are always calling and emailing him: his colleagues back home, other attendees of the conference, and worst of all… _Marcus_.

Their boss has been his most frequent harasser, requesting meticulous summaries of each event Neil attends. He’s half-convinced Marcus only demands them because he knows how much Neil hates giving them (and their boss conveniently – and _suspiciously_ – never asks for the same from Audrey).

In the end, Neil’s finding almost everything about this conference aggravating. There are plenty of lectures he wants to hear (many he finds engaging, even), but it’s not enough to make up for all that’s annoying him. By necessity, he and Audrey keep having to split up to cover all the panels they’re supposed to attend and that means there’s no buffer between him and other people (one of his favorite things to do when he’s dealing with someone he doesn’t like is to introduce Audrey and then conveniently find an excuse that necessitates him being anywhere else).

And none of that is to say that things are better on the occasions he and Audrey _are_ together, because she doesn’t let anything slide with him. They’ve been friends for so long that she feels it’s her right to call him on everything and he _just can’t_ _take it any_ –

“I see you looking at your phone again,” she cuts into his thoughts, and he regrets that he already threw the only pillow at her that was within reach. (It’s not worth the energy to get up and retrieve another one.)

They’d gotten back to Audrey’s room only an hour before, setting up in the living room of her suite (yes, Marcus booked her a _suite_ – tell him their boss doesn’t like literally everyone better than him). They’re on opposite couches, facing each other across a coffee table scattered with papers, books, and various reference materials, because even with all the technology available in today’s age, the presenters seem to love having physical packets to hand out to everyone at each panel.

Which reminds Neil that Audrey’s presenting her paper tomorrow and he’s supposed to be – _oh…right_. Listening to her. Providing helpful critiques and general feedback ( _that better be positive, Melendez, or I will throw you off my balcony_ , he vaguely recalls her saying).

And that’s not getting into the fact that Audrey has a _balcony_ while Neil gets a window that doesn’t even open.

“Sorry,” he tells her, trying to sound sincere, “you have my attention, I swear.”

Except now she’s the one ignoring him as she types away on her phone, and before he can point out her hypocrisy, she leans forward and flips it around so he can see what she’s been doing.

 _Melendez is pathetic_ , reads the message on the screen. And she’d sent it to –

 _Marcus freaking Andrews_.

Yup, he definitely regrets throwing that pillow. Maybe he’ll get up, retrieve it from the floor next to her, sit back on his own couch, and then throw it at her again. (Though if he puts that much effort into it, she _might_ see it coming.)

“Thanks for texting our boss, Audrey. I appreciate it.” He picks up his phone to text Andrews: _I am not pathetic_.

He’s not. He _knows_ he’s not. Except…he really kind of is and Audrey calls him on these things and –

 _He hates this conference._ That’s the problem. It’s too long and he’s miserable and he misses home. He’s not used to missing home like this – honestly, it’s never been a problem for him before. He likes traveling and enjoys the opportunity to break out of his routine, but for some reason this trip is the most difficult one he’s been on in a long time. (Years. Decades. _Ever_?)

It would have been infinitely more enjoyable if Shaun had come along. They could have chosen their favorite panels to attend and discussed the newest developments with others in their field – it seems most of his time so far has been spent thinking _Shaun would love this_. Sure, Neil enjoys it, too, but if he experienced it _with_ Shaun? Getting excited about things with him…or just spending time with him, really, is always preferable to Neil. But Shaun’s not here to do any of that with. Not here to share meals with or unwind together at the end of the day. Not here to talk to – about _anything_. (Such as complaining about Audrey and Marcus and this trip in general – all of which is completely justified.)

Shaun’s just…not here.

 _And Neil hates it_.

Audrey’s grinning and actively typing on her phone again, most likely still talking to Marcus. _Good, the two of them can bond over how miserable he is, because that’s the kind of life Neil has._

“Be honest.” Audrey draws his attention away from checking his own phone for messages (that he still doesn’t have). “How unhappy are you right now? On a scale of one to ten? For reference, one would be _anywhere_ with Shaun right next to you, and ten would be, well…” She waves a hand at him. “You in New York. With Shaun some 2,500 miles away.”

He just stares at her until she mutters, “Ten isn’t enough. I’m going with twelve.” She caps that off with an emphatic double tap on her phone and he sits up straighter when he realizes she typed 1 and 2. _She must have_. She’s sending his score of misery to Marcus! (He’s never going to another conference with her again.)

“I’m never going to another conference with you again,” he says, because thinking it wasn’t enough.

She doesn’t bother responding to that, though she does start snickering at her phone (probably at something Marcus wrote back mocking him – maybe they’re laughing about how Audrey gets a luxury suite and Neil gets the equivalent of a walk-in closet).

He’s desperate for some kind of subject change. “Why does Andrews let us have the same day off about once a year, yet we can both have the same _week_ off for a conference?”

“Because Marcus changes the rules based on how he feels. So…hourly,” she answers, which is more or less accurate. “Also, I don’t know why you’re whining –”

“I’m not whining,” Neil says, telling himself he merely sounds…petulant. (Which is much more dignified, right?)

She looks down her nose at him. “Do I need to remind you that I’m technically replacing our boss? Before I was asked to present, Marcus was supposed to be on this trip. If I’d declined, _he’d_ be the one sitting across from you right now. Take a moment to imagine that.” She affords him a few seconds and he involuntarily shudders. “Exactly. You’d be complaining to _him_ instead of me –”

“I haven’t been complaining!” (He really hasn’t been and he marvels at her ability to twist the facts to fit her narrative.) “ _You’re_ the one who’s been harassing me, for three days now, because you don’t think I’ve been acting thrilled enough about this trip.”

“Fine…you’ve been _wordlessly_ complaining –”

“That’s not a thing.”

Her look is so scathing that Neil actually cringes. “It’s very much a thing and we both know Andrews wouldn’t humor you the way I do –”

“ _This_ is humoring me?” he can’t help scoffing.

“Believe me, letting you stay in my room is humoring you; Andrews would have kicked you out long ago.”

“Back to the broom closet he has me in?” _Great, now he’s sulking._ (His evening just keeps getting worse.)

“It’s a normal hotel room, Neil, just like mine.” She’s so patronizing that he grits his teeth in response. “So what if my room is slightly bigger –”

“You have two rooms _and_ a balcony with a hot tub!”

“Which is extremely relaxing.” She’s trying to hold back her amusement. “No doubt Marcus realized how much I’d have to deal with this week and wanted to ensure I could mitigate the insanely high stress levels that you cause.”

“What about _my_ stress levels?”

“Go back to talking to Shaun,” she wryly suggests. “That’ll help you.”

Neil checks his phone and resists the urge to throw it against the wall. “I can’t talk to him if he _won’t answer me_.” He instantly regrets admitting the issue when Audrey’s eyes widen a little in recognition; it’s the first time that he’s outright acknowledged one of the reasons he’s so on edge. (Though the problem isn’t so much that Shaun’s not answering him, it’s that his contact with his resident has been drastically reduced and there’s nothing he can do about it.)

“I’m sure he’s just busy… I didn’t realize how much the distance was bothering you.” She sounds almost _apologetic_ and it only serves to make him feel worse, because if he’s garnering _genuine sympathy from Audrey Lim_ (who’s much more likely to laugh and call him pathetic, as seen already this evening), then he must really be a sight.

He doesn’t bother denying it, either. (He knows a lost cause when he sees one…even if it’s him.) “I look that bad, huh?”

She barely keeps herself from grimacing. “Worse. And I can say that because I’m your friend.”

“It’s… I’m not…” He sighs and gives up. There’s no point trying to explain something to her that he can’t adequately explain to himself.

Audrey waves her phone at him. “Maybe this will help. Andrews says, and I quote, ‘ _Tell Melendez that Murphy has been equally lackluster since you two left_ ’.”

“He – what?” That gives Neil pause because Shaun hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort and Neil’s been gone for almost three full days. (And if Shaun really _is_ unhappy, why has it been hours since he last texted?)

“Lackluster,” she repeats in monotone. “I’m guessing that adjective was chosen to replace some other description he knew you’d object to, like ‘annoying as hell’. Which, not coincidentally, is how I’d describe _you_ this week.”

“I’m not annoying,” Neil automatically denies, even though he knows he is, he’s just past the point of caring (or trying to stop it). “And neither is Shaun.”

She stares at him in disbelief, though he can tell it’s more at the fact that he’d make such a claim than at the claim itself. “Neil.”

“Okay,” he relents, no longer able to keep a straight face, “yes, he can drive Marcus up the wall even on his best days.” His grin gets wider. “Personally, I consider it one of Murphy’s best qualities.”

“Of course you do,” she says archly. “And remember, he does that _when you’re there_. Now imagine a week of Shaun _without you_ and how Marcus is dealing with that.”

 _Forget Marcus, how is_ Shaun _dealing with it?_

Neil shifts uncomfortably on the couch before muttering, “I hope Murphy still has a job when we get back.” Because if he doesn’t make light of the situation, he’ll have to think seriously about what Audrey said and that will only serve to make him more agitated, contemplating how Shaun might be equally as miserable without him and – _too late, now he’s thinking about it and it’s making him feel worse and this is exactly what he’d been trying to avoid_. He leans his head on the back of the couch, shutting his eyes and taking a calming breath.

“Marcus will never let him go,” Audrey says, in answer to his joke. “Which means he’ll also never let _you_ go.”

Neil easily catches her veiled insinuation and can’t help smiling up at the ceiling (which he swears is nicer than the one in his room – how is that even _possible_?). “I like that you think my job security depends entirely on how much Shaun Murphy likes me.”

“Because it probably does,” she quips.

“I’ll make sure I keep bribing him to rave about what a stellar attending I am.”

She shakes her head in admonishment, amused though it is. “It’s a wonder to me that they continue letting you have residents, Neil.”

“Hmm, I’m remembering a time when you had the residents cover you being ‘on call’ when you were in court and then…what was it? Oh yes. _Jail_.”

“Why do I tell you things?” she complains.

 _That answer is easy._ “Alcohol.”

“I’ve made the decision to become sober,” she announces. “I’m never drinking again.” She looks longingly at her wine glass on the coffee table before picking it up and taking a long sip. “After this glass,” she amends.

“Where did you even get that?” He’s only now registering the half-empty bottle on the table between them. (Apparently he’d been preoccupied with other things.) “Did you bring that with you on the plane?”

“Marcus had it sent to my room as a gift.” She glances at him over the top of the glass, asking innocently, “You didn’t get a bottle?”

“You know damn well I didn’t.” When she holds a hand out to indicate he should help himself to the wine, he shakes his head. “No thanks. I’m raiding the mini-bar for the rest of the trip, though. I’ve definitely earned it after this interminable week –”

“We’ve been in New York for _three days_.”

“It feels like much longer.”

“And if I’d known you’d spend the entire time sulking, I’d never have agreed to come.”

He reminds himself that this trip isn’t about him – or rather, it shouldn’t be. (And really, he _is_ happy for her, it’s just that other things are overshadowing it right now.) “You get to present your latest paper at one of the most prestigious annual conferences,” he reminds her. “That’s an honor.”

She’s watching him with some sort of unimpressed resignation. “It’s not worth what I’ve had to put up with.”

“You’re not helping my mood.”

“What _would_ help your mood?” she challenges. “Besides the magical appearance of a certain resident whom you can’t seem to function without?”

He sighs loudly, pressing his hands to his face and letting himself fall sideways so he’s lying on the couch. (His room can’t even fit _one_ couch and Audrey’s ‘living room’ has four.) “This isn’t only about Shaun,” he tries to claim. “I’ve always hated conferences.”

“Since when?” she accuses, because damn, he forgot she remembers past events just like nearly every other human on the planet. And she’s been to many conferences with him. _And she’s right: he doesn’t hate conferences._

“I hate this one,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and refusing to look at her (not that she’s ever needed him to in order to determine how truthful he’s being). “Who plans one for five days?”

“It’s not unusual when it’s an association’s annual event. We’ve been to plenty that were this long over the years.”

“So, what, because I liked the others, I have to like this one, too? It’s some kind of requirement that I must always love conferences now?” He glares at her. “Who made up that stupid rule?”

“Oh boy, I’m upping your score to fifteen,” she snipes, even going so far as to type it into her phone to drive her point home.

“Stop texting Andrews!”

“No, I’m taking matters into my own hands. I’m telling him that I am _never_ traveling with you again –”

“You can’t make that threat to me when I just made the exact same one to you –”

“– unless Shaun comes along,” she talks right over him.

That stops Neil in his metaphorical tracks. “Oh. Well. I might be able to live with that.”

“I thought you might,” she says, mouth curving up at whatever she’s reading on her phone. “Oh, this is rich. Marcus says it’s a phenomenal idea that he’d already settled on before I suggested it.” She arches a brow at him. “He actually used that word, Neil. _Phenomenal_.”

He finds himself focusing on one particular thing she’d said. “What do you mean he’d already settled on it? And why would he agree to something that’s technically…unnecessary?”

“Trust me,” she spares him a dark glance (though it’s not without humor), “it’s necessary. And to your first question, he had some incentive.”

It takes Neil all of three seconds to parse out that cryptic statement. “Shaun.”

Audrey’s nodding. “He claims Shaun is driving him even more insane than you’re driving me, but I don’t know if such a thing is possible. He and I are going to trade horror stories when we get home.”

He ignores the slight. “If Shaun had come along, this trip would be…” _Easier? More tolerable?_ _Actually exciting_? Whatever the best description is, Neil wouldn’t be crawling out of his skin and counting the 65 hours until he gets home on Sunday.

“Better?”

It takes him a second to realize she’s filled in the end of his sentence and he looks at her sharply, but there’s no hint that she’s aware of how true that is, both for him and for Shaun. (Or that it’s a topic they’ve discussed before using that _exact_ word.)

“Please, Neil, you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.” Despite her promise to give up alcohol after her current glass, she’s refilling her wine. “It’s no secret that you two have become borderline codependent.”

He’s not sure if he should be offended at her description. “That term has a negative connotation and –”

“God, you’re _impossible_ ,” she interrupts, rather huffily. “You’re half of the relationship, Neil, so you must know that I meant it in a positive way.” She takes another long sip of her wine before adding, “Register my complete lack of surprise that you two would manage to turn it into a good thing.”

He considers arguing, mostly on principle, but he ultimately can’t. He knows what she means and she’s not wrong. His and Shaun’s lives have become progressively more intertwined over the past few months and it’s undeniable that things are better for both of them when they’re together, as opposed to apart. (And while he knows that some would argue that’s not an entirely healthy thing, Audrey’s right: Neil _is_ half of the relationship and he can confidently say it’s not detrimental to either of them…quite the opposite, in fact.)

Neil checks his phone for the umpteenth time. No new messages. Shaun rarely goes this long without answering unless he has a legitimate reason. Earlier today, he’d promised to text Neil when his shift ended, but that should have been two hours ago, so he must have had to stay late.

After receiving no replies to his last few messages, Neil had been trying not to text again until he knew Shaun was free, but to hell with it. (He’s _really_ curious about what Shaun’s been doing that had convinced Marcus to send them both on the same trips from here on out.)

 _What have you been doing to Andrews?_ he asks, hoping he’ll get a faster response to this message than his previous ones.

A few moments later, Audrey bursts out laughing on the couch across the way. “This is from Marcus: _Neil just texted Murphy, didn’t he? I literally lost him mid-sentence. He pulled out his phone when it buzzed and then walked away from me MID-SENTENCE._ ” She sends Neil a significant look. “That last ‘mid-sentence’ is in all capitals, mind you.”

“Shaun walking away from us while we’re speaking isn’t exactly a new thing,” Neil reminds her, vastly amused at the mental image of Shaun doing it to their astonished boss. “I told you that annoying Andrews is one of his best qualities.”

He thinks she’s rolling her eyes, but he’s not quite sure because his attention is diverted by a new message from Shaun which reads: _I will text you in 5 minutes._

 _But you JUST texted me,_ Neil points out in a quick reply (which he’s not surprised Shaun ignores). He pretends not to notice the way Audrey’s smirking at him – she can obviously tell, from the way he’s smiling at his phone, that he’s finally gotten an answer from the only person he wants to talk to right now. Or…most of the time, to be honest.

Since he has to wait for Shaun, he decides to message their boss, just to admonish him: _Maybe you should try to be more engaging if you don’t want your employees vanishing before you finish talking to them._

Not even thirty seconds later, he gets a reply he can practically hear in his head: _MAYBE_ _I am going to send the two of you to every event remotely related to your field that I can find_ – _GLOBALLY_ – _from now on just so that you’re away for most of the year and I never have to deal with either of you._

 _You love us,_ Neil writes back.

_Present your proof, Melendez._

That won’t take much effort – Andrews must be really tired tonight ( _thank you, Murphy, for wearing him down_ ) if he’s offering such an easy challenge: Neil simply reminds him of how much money they’d raised during the holiday gala. Normally, Andrews would argue _anything_ with him, but this involves money and if there’s one topic he always takes seriously, it’s money.

Sure enough, the reply he gets proves him right: _You raise a valid point, Neil. Yes, I love…that you’re both such effective fundraisers. Keep proving your worth and I’ll keep approving your (reasonable) requests. Also, thanks for the reminder to get started on our May fundraiser._

 _Why would I care?_ Neil writes back, hoping his scoffing tone comes through even in the text. _I’m still not on the planning committee._

_Sure you’re not. I’ll touch base with Reznick and let you know, but I’m thinking a spring theme._

Neil actually does scoff out loud at that before typing, _Spring, huh? What an original theme. FOR MAY._ (Maybe these people really do need him if that’s the best they can come up with.)

Marcus predictably doesn’t respond to his taunt, and before Neil can think of something even more deliberately aggravating to say, he receives a message from Shaun in answer to his earlier question asking what he’d been doing to their boss: _I do not understand your question._ _I have not been doing anything to Dr. Andrews._

 _Besides irritating him? Maybe don’t walk away from him when he’s talking to you._ Neil knows by now that it’s a futile endeavor, but he can try anyways. (He’d also warn Shaun about potentially getting in trouble, but Marcus is still riding the high from their record-setting fundraiser and all the fawning from the board that came with it – as such, he’s about as likely to scold Shaun over _anything_ as he is to book Neil a suite on one of these trips.)

 _Maybe if he didn’t insult you,_ Shaun writes back, _I would have stayed_.

Neil pauses, mind whirling at that information as he glances at Audrey and thinks back over the last half hour. Luckily, he’s able to figure it out fairly quickly – it helps that he knows Marcus doesn’t actually dislike him that much, not enough to outright insult him (and even if he wanted to, he certainly wouldn’t be reckless enough to do it to Shaun’s face).

 _Did Marcus tell you that Audrey was complaining about me?_ Neil asks.

_He said you are insufferable and that he doesn’t know how I ‘put up with you’. That is when you texted me, so I took the opportunity to excuse myself from the conversation._

Neil smiles at that twisting of facts: Shaun ‘excused himself from the conversation’. Sure he did. However, he’s more focused on Shaun’s unhappiness with how Marcus described him, which is only a paraphrase of Audrey’s complaints. He's well-aware that the younger man is more upset at the insinuation that Neil is someone he has to _tolerate_ than at any perceived insult Marcus tosses his way. He knows he has to correct his resident’s wrong assumptions, but all he feels is affection at the blatant reminder of how defensive Shaun gets on his behalf – and never more so than when it’s in _any_ way connected to their personal relationship. ( _As if the same thing isn’t true, and ten times worse, in the opposite direction._ )

He composes a message explaining the conversations they’d all been having, informs Shaun that neither Audrey nor Marcus truly meant to insult him (or so he hopes), and waits impatiently for a response.

 _Okay_ , Shaun finally answers, causing Neil to irritably tap his fingers on the arm of the couch – not due to the curtness, which isn’t unusual for Shaun, but because it feels like the end of their current conversation. And he’s really not ready to be done talking yet. This is the best he’s felt all night. All _week_. Able to forget the fact that he’s so far away from home, able to forget –

He pushes those thoughts aside, remembering what Audrey had told him earlier: that Marcus couldn’t deal with Shaun the same way Audrey couldn’t deal with him.

It spurs him to ask, _How boring is it there without me?_

He gets no response for a minute. Then two. Then five.

Maybe Shaun is busy again, or hasn’t seen the notifications. Maybe he’s heading home, or –

_I miss you._

Neil’s breath stutters and fades out when he reads Shaun’s latest message. So he reads it again. _And again._

Because Shaun’s encapsulated in three words the _exact problem here_. What Neil’s been actively trying not to think about for three days, ever since he boarded a plane in California. Not just that Shaun isn’t here, but that Neil’s not _there_ , back home, with Shaun. Even Audrey had been wrong about this one – it’s not the distance that’s bothering Neil, it’s the _separation_ that’s making this trip so difficult.

Shaun misses him, and he misses Shaun so much that he hasn’t even allowed himself to put it into words – to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else. All he can do is type, with fingers that have oddly gone numb: _I miss you, too_.

Rather than replying to that directly, Shaun responds with a message confirming Neil’s guess from earlier – he’d had to stay late so he’d missed his bus, but Alex is going to give him a ride home soon, so he’ll call later.

Audrey hums from behind (and slightly above) him; Neil tips his head back to find that she’s reading the messages on his phone over his shoulder.

“Invasion of privacy,” he complains, trying to regulate his breathing into something more normal as he forces himself to set down his phone.

“It’s not an invasion if I already knew it was true,” Audrey tries to claim, sweeping around him to gather up some papers from the coffee table as she retakes her seat. “As you know, the last thing I want right now is a serious relationship, and yet I have to admit…there are times when I’m slightly envious of you two.” She picks up her wine and watches it swirl in the glass, but her eyes are distant, like she’s seeing something else. “We should all be so lucky.”

Neil’s irritation with her vanishes as he contemplates her confession. It’s the same type of sentiment that he’d heard from Morgan not long ago, the night of their holiday gala. He’s also heard similar things from others over the past six months or so; for whatever reason, people seem to enjoy telling him that they envy his and Shaun’s relationship.

As he thinks about it, Neil’s surprised to realize that  _he_ envies it, too. If he had this kind of relationship with someone he considered a romantic partner…that would complete his life in a way that he’d always wanted – in a way he always thought he’d have found by now.

But that’s not what Shaun is. Not to him. They are _not that to each other_ , no matter what they tell the world. And it’s fine, it really is, but he wonders if he’ll find that someday. If Shaun will. (He wants it for Shaun even more than himself, because Shaun _deserves_ it. He deserves that kind of unconditional love from someone who holds him in the kind of high esteem that Neil himself does.)

“He’s fine, Neil,” Audrey says kindly, able to tell that his thoughts have turned more melancholy, though she hasn’t correctly guessed why. “He’ll be there when we get home and he’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he acknowledges. “I just…” _worry_. And that might be the worst part of this trip: he can’t stop thinking about what’s going on back home while he’s not there, or more specifically, what _Shaun’s_ doing while he’s away. What if something comes up, some problem or issue, and Shaun could use his help? The thought of the younger man needing him and Neil not being there…it pulls at him, in a rather painful way.

No, Shaun doesn’t ‘need’ him in the sense that he’s helpless otherwise (that has never been and will never be true), but over the past year he’s _allowed_ himself to need Neil in a different way. He’s allowed Neil to become his mentor and friend and protector, all wrapped up into one. And it had taken a lot for him to do that – to let down his guard, extend that type of trust, and let Neil into his life in a way he never has with anyone else, not even Aaron.

As such, the only thing Neil wants to do is fulfill the mostly unspoken agreement between them – that if Shaun needs anything, _ever_ , Neil will be there for him. No questions asked. (And apparently, when Neil’s denied the ability to do that, even if only temporarily, he doesn’t handle it very well.)

“You just what?” Audrey’s tone has changed from the joking one earlier, and she has her head propped on her hand as she studies him. It’s her sincere curiosity that compels him to be honest.

“I’m not there. If he needs something. If he needs…” He exhales slowly. “…me.”

“He has Aaron,” Audrey reminds him. “He has Claire. Jessica. Alex and Morgan and that other girl he always goes on about…Lea? And even Marcus. He _has_ them if he needs them.”

“Yeah,” he unhappily agrees, “I know.”

“Do you?” she lightly challenges. “Because I could keep going and name a few dozen more people at our hospital who would help Shaun Murphy with anything. Who would defend him against anyone.”

“I know,” he repeats. “And I believe you. But…they’re not me.”

“I get it.” She leans forward a little, eyes piercing in a way that means she’s about to say something serious. “I’ve known you for a long time, seen you in a handful of relationships – the most serious before now being Jess, of course. And yet I’ve _never_ seen you like this.”

He bristles at her words, feeling suddenly defensive. “I’m not –”

“That wasn’t a dig,” she quickly interrupts. “All I mean is that I’ve never seen you in love the way that you are with Shaun.”

He bites back his automatic reaction denying it – everyone already believes they are, and besides, refuting it would be counterproductive at this point. ( _Even though they aren’t in love._ Obviously.)

“Don’t forget that I know you, too,” he warns her. “Which means I can tell you’re trying to get at something here. So just come out with it.”

“You already know,” she informs him. “You said it a minute ago: he needs you. But more importantly, to my mind? You need him. You two have become…necessary to each other.”

Morgan had once said the same thing, back when he and Shaun first started this, and Neil wonders if the two women had been talking to each other about them…or maybe it’s more simple than that.

Maybe they’d both seen it because it’s the truth.

“Shaun’s life is…incredibly difficult at times,” he tells Audrey, acknowledging what she’s said in a roundabout way. “More difficult, in many ways, than yours or mine, or any of our other residents, because he has to deal with things that the rest of us don’t. Shaun would actually be the first to admit that, since it’s merely a statement of fact and he rarely shies away from the truth. He has to work twice as hard at a lot of things that come naturally to others – to people without autism. And he’s definitely put in the time and effort to compensate. To better understand people. To learn the best ways to react in any situation. He’s come a long way in that regard, but it’s still a lot of work for him, and he still has to deal with a multitude of other things on top of that.”

Audrey finishes her drink, glances at the wine bottle, then seems to decide against it as she sets down her empty glass. “He’s told me a little about what a typical day is like for him. A few months back, we were discussing a patient in one of the breakrooms and he kept losing his train of thought because the vent over us was malfunctioning and it was unusually cold. I asked if that kind of thing distracted him a lot, and he ran down a list of things that bothered him, or otherwise kept him from being able to think clearly. Then he added things people had said and done that made him uncomfortable or left him confused – and when he was done, do you know what floored me the most?”

“I bet I can guess,” Neil says grimly. “They were all from that day, weren’t they?”

She nods in amazement, though Neil’s not sure if it’s at the memory or at his correct conclusion. “It was eye-opening, Neil. I knew he had his own daily challenges, but I had no idea what it was truly like for him. The stressors in that boy’s life are _insane_. And you know how he ended his summation?” When Neil shakes his head, unable to guess this time, she smiles in a way that he might consider the kindest one he’s ever seen from her. “He said that he was fine. He said that you fixed most of those things. He said that even when you didn’t realize it, something as simple as spending a few minutes with you during a terrible day was enough to put him at ease. So yes, Neil, in case you’ve ever doubted it…you are _necessary_ to him.”

Neil needs a minute to take that in. He and Shaun have spoken about similar topics in the past, and Neil’s always been aware of their overwhelmingly positive impact on each other, but his resident has never explicitly told him any of the things that Audrey’s telling him right now. It’s also making him resent this trip all the more, hearing about the numerous ways Shaun quietly relies on him and knowing that they’ll still be apart for at least three more days.

“It’s not easy for me to… _not be there_ ,” Neil admits. “I didn’t realize how difficult it would be until we actually left.” (Which probably has a lot to do with the fact that it’s been half a year since he and Shaun spent any significant amount of time apart – the last time they’d been separated by a trip like this had been before they began pretending to be in a relationship, and while they’d still been friends, they hadn’t been as integral to each other’s lives as they are now.)

“You need to be needed,” Audrey says bluntly (and rather astutely). “That’s the other point I was trying to make earlier: allowing others to depend on you is at the core of who you are. It’s how you show people you care. How you operate.” She smiles at the unintentional pun before clarifying, “Not in an O.R., but in your daily life with your family, your friends, your patients… It always surprised me that I never saw it in your romantic relationships before now.”

They’re both aware that she’s mostly talking about Jessica. “Yeah,” he agrees on a sigh. “I always gravitated towards the most independent people in my orbit, because it felt like…there was something wrong with wanting to take care of people – not professionally, but _personally_. It felt like a weakness, if that makes sense. It’s kind of drilled into us that relationships should be fifty-fifty: equal work all the time. And it took me a long time to realize that’s almost never reality, and more importantly, that it’s _okay_ that it’s not reality. Everyone has different needs and they often change by the day – some days you can give all of yourself, some days you can barely manage one percent. It ebbs and flows and it’s a rare day that both people can contribute equally.”

“Personally, I like putting minimal effort into relationships,” Audrey claims, even managing a straight face. “Letting my partner do all the work is fine with me.”

“Funny, Audrey,” he says wryly, as she laughs at her off-color joke. (They both know that in all seriousness, she’s more like him than not.) “My drive to take care of people is something about myself that I’ll never be able to change. And if I’m not doing that, if I’m not _allowed_ to do that, then it feels like…something’s missing.”

“It was missing with Jessica,” she adds, since he stopped just shy of saying it.

“That and a myriad of other things,” he allows. (Audrey knows most of them, so there’s no need to get back into all of it now.) “Our break-up hurt. A lot. But I’m glad it ended when it did, because if it hadn’t? God forbid, if we’d gotten _married_? We’d be heading towards the end, sooner or later, and it would have been that much worse if we’d let it happen later.”

“I’m not saying you and Jessica didn’t work, because you did, in a different way. But you and Shaun complement each other in ways you and Jess never could have.” She’s studying him in that eerie manner she has that makes him think he could never hide anything from her. (And yet he is, because she has no _idea_ that he and Shaun aren’t really together – he’d bet his life on it for one reason: because if she so much as suspected, she’d have called him on it a long time ago.) “Do you think this is it?” she asks.

He’s momentarily lost, too busy thinking of how accurate she’s been in her assessment of why his and Shaun’s relationship (their _friendship_ ) works so well. “Do I think what’s it?”

She sighs, though it’s mostly fond. “ _Shaun_. Is this it for you?”

He freezes at the question, though he should have expected it was coming, especially given what they’d been talking about; it makes sense that she’d wonder what they planned for the future.

He can’t lie to her, either. Can’t try to downplay things or pretend like Shaun isn’t as important to him as he is – if he even attempted to do so, she’d know immediately. (And more than that, the mere idea of lying in that way feels _wrong_.)

In the end, all he can do is tell her the absolute truth, which is… “I can’t envision any future for me that doesn’t have him in it.” (Because he always plans to be in Shaun’s life – so long as Shaun wants him there.)

She seems immensely pleased with his answer, like it’s something she’s known for a long time and has been waiting for him to confirm. “So ask him to marry you already. Everyone can tell that’s where you’re heading.”

He spares her a speculative glance. “They can, huh?” Strangely enough, her suggestion doesn’t throw him half as much as her previous question had. (He must be getting really good at playing off these kinds of inquiries into their relationship.)

She’s nodding. “I don’t know what you’re waiting for.”

He takes a moment to briefly picture that imaginary version of the future. What it’d be like to have Shaun with him _forever_. Always being there for each other, no matter what. Never having to worry that one day they might no longer be in each other’s lives. He idly wonders how difficult it’d be to sell Shaun on the idea of a _fake marriage_ and it’s rather jarring to realize how easy it’d be to talk _himself_ into it, never mind convince Shaun that it’d be the best thing for both of them.

He quickly snaps himself out of it, because the entire idea is _insane_. Pretending to be in a relationship is one thing – and it’s easy to end whenever they decide it’s necessary. But a marriage of convenience isn’t even in the same _realm_. Shaun might still be adamant about not wanting a romantic relationship with anyone right now, but things could always change. In the year and a half that they’ve known each other, Neil’s seen him alter plenty of his formerly concrete opinions, so it’s not inconceivable that one day Shaun might want to attempt a real relationship with _someone else_. And Neil is never going to be the person who stands in the way of Shaun finding that kind of happiness. (He cares about Shaun too much to ever do that to him.)

“Well?” Audrey asks, breaking into his thoughts. When he stares at her blankly, she snaps, rather impatiently, “Marriage?”

“That’s a long ways away,” he says vaguely. “If ever.”

Her expression reveals that she’s far from satisfied with that answer. “So you’re saying that I’m talking to the wrong person about this?”

He tries to glare her into submission. “Audrey.”

“No, I understand,” she says breezily. “I’ll bring it up to Shaun – I can probably convince him to ask _you_ instead.”

“We’re done talking about this,” he says, with as much resolve as he can manage (and a mental note to warn Shaun about Audrey’s new plan). He’s literally saved by the bell when his phone chimes and he sighs with relief when he sees it’s Shaun again. _Finally_. “Shaun’s on his way home and he’s going to call me when he gets there.”

“Then you should go back to your room,” she says, waving at the door. “Not only because I don’t want to listen to your half of a lovesick conversation, but because I’m going to go enjoy the hot tub. I deserve it after an entire day of wallowing in your misery by forced proximity.”

He takes a moment to stare at the oversized hot tub through the glass doors to the balcony (which is enclosed in winter so that guests can still enjoy it). “I hate you.”

“I’d invite you to join me, but we both know you won’t. Because as envious as you are of my room’s amenities – of which I am richly deserving, mind you – you don’t actually care about the hot tub. All you want to do is talk to Shaun. So run along and commiserate about your awful weeks and argue over which one of you is suffering more without the other.”

“We’re not going to do that,” Neil mutters, knowing full well there’s a real possibility that they might.

“Uh huh. By the way, I maintain that _I_ still win the ‘who’s suffering the most this week?’ contest.” She’s only half-paying attention to him now as she makes a haphazard attempt at neatening up the coffee table.

“Week’s not over yet, either,” he blithely reminds her, smiling at her exaggerated groan in response. He goes over to the credenza to examine an overflowing basket of muffins, fruit, and various chocolates – a gift from the organizers for presenting her paper this week. He takes out a muffin and then surveys the fruit, debating if he finds any of it appealing. When he picks up an apple, he hears Audrey clicking her tongue behind him.

“You’re thinking that’s what Shaun would choose, aren’t you?”

It is _unnerving_ the way she reads his thoughts sometimes. “The only reason I’m not throwing this at you is because it would hurt,” he claims, defiantly taking a bite out of it as he gathers his things to leave. On his way out he calls over his shoulder, “Try not to feel too sorry for me as you spend the evening relaxing in your hot tub while I languish in this hotel’s equivalent of a prison cell.”

“No one can do hyperbole quite like you, Melendez,” she yells back, right before the door shuts behind him, and he has to grin because they both know she’s correct. So maybe he’d been exaggerating a little (they’re in a pretty nice hotel so _all_ the rooms are nice), but the fact remains that Andrews had definitely given Audrey preferential treatment. While that doesn’t actually bother Neil half as much as he claims it does, he still feels it’s his duty to complain as much as he can – mostly because it annoys their boss and that’s all the satisfaction Neil needs to feel better about things.

He takes the elevator down _seventeen floors_ (he’s fairly sure Marcus would have stuck him in the basement if it had been an option) and enters his own room, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being truly alone for the first time in 15 hours. He kicks off his shoes and leans back against the headboard of the bed, turning on the TV so he can catch the nightly headlines.

While he’s waiting for Shaun to get home, Neil sends an offhand text with the amount of time until _he’s_ home – or at least, back in San Jose: _64 hours until my flight gets in, barring any delays._

 _63.65 hours_ , Shaun immediately corrects.

Neil feels a surge of warmth at the fact that he hasn’t been the only one counting. That Shaun knows the _exact_ amount of time until Neil gets home. (Or, more importantly, the amount of time until they’ll next be able to see each other.)

When his phone rings a short time later, with Shaun’s name displaying on the screen, things suddenly don’t seem as bad as they have for the past three days.

He puts his phone on speaker when he answers, and hearing Shaun’s voice greet him in return causes a weight to lift he hadn’t known was there. Shaun’s _okay_. Hearing him isn’t as good as seeing him, but it’s enough to calm Neil’s nerves after three days apart (especially because this is the first time they’ve been able to talk on the phone since Neil left home – their schedules hadn’t aligned before so they’d only been speaking through texts).

He fills Shaun in on the conference, including details he hadn’t bothered to type out in texts because they were too trivial or he felt it was too time-consuming. In turn, Shaun tells him about their most recent patients and random news from the hospital (that is, gossip about their co-workers that he’d heard from Morgan or Claire). Neil gets lost in the ridiculous stories Shaun’s telling and for a short time, at least, he’s able to forget that he’s thousands of miles from home. (With Shaun on the phone, the distance doesn’t seem nearly as great.)

After about an hour, their conversation lapses and Neil thinks he should probably wrap up their call. The other man’s started making dinner, so he can hear the muffled sounds of pots and pans in the background, but…Shaun hadn’t told him he had to go. (Maybe he doesn’t want to end their call as much as Neil doesn’t.)

Neil’s never felt a compulsive need to fill the silence and neither has Shaun. They can spend time together quietly, sometimes for hours, doing their own separate things while sharing the same space. It’s something they truly appreciate about each other – Neil likes not being bothered when he’s busy or trying to focus on a task and Shaun likes not being bothered in _general_. However, there’s a difference between staying silent while they’re with each other in person and doing it over the phone. His thoughts drift and he remembers his conversation with Audrey…he _had_ decided to warn Shaun about it, right? (That’s why he asks what he does next – or so he tells himself.)

“Want to guess what Audrey said tonight?”

He hears what might be the sound of a fridge opening and closing before Shaun answers, “I am sure she said many things over the course of the evening.”

“You know very well that I’m referring to something specific.”

“What did she say?”

Neil gives a long-suffering sigh, though the effect is probably lost because they’re on speaker. “One of these days you’re actually going to guess.”

“Guessing is an unproductive use of time. You could have already told me what she said and our conversation would be ten seconds further along than it is now.”

He can perfectly see Shaun’s expression in his mind. “Stop looking all exasperated.”

“I look no such way,” Shaun says indignantly (which proves he looks _exactly_ that way).

“Sure you don’t.” Neil debates the wisdom of continuing, but part of him is genuinely curious about Shaun’s reaction. “She said that everyone thinks we’re going to get married.” He’s greeted by silence, so he waits, guessing Shaun’s probably busy with cooking. When it goes on for too long, though, he starts wondering if the call has been dropped. “Shaun?”

Instead of explaining his absence, Shaun just asks, “What did you say?”

What _had_ he said? He hadn’t laughed it off or changed the subject. He hadn’t distracted her by joking that she was more invested in his and Shaun’s relationship than _they_ were. No, he’d gone and let himself _think about it_. He’d actually envisioned what it’d be like, going so far as to imagine a future where they kept this up for so long that they got married for the sake of convenience. And it’s as crazy to think about now as it was an hour earlier.

Usually, Neil tells Shaun virtually everything, but there’s _no way_ he’s going to reveal where his wayward imagination had gone. Even though he knows it didn’t mean anything, Shaun might not be entirely convinced of that. It’d make him uncomfortable and that wouldn’t be fair – especially not when the whole point of their relationship is to _avoid_ situations where Shaun’s made uncomfortable by other people. (Neil had already been one of those people, back when they first met, and he vowed a long time ago that he’d do everything possible to ensure it never happened again.)

“I didn’t really answer her,” Neil tells him, which is pretty much true. “We almost immediately went back to discussing this trip and how much I hate it.”

“You hate it?” There might be something hopeful in Shaun’s question.

“I do. I can’t wait for it to be over – a sentiment which you seem to share, since you’re the one who corrected my hourly countdown, remember?”

“I remember. We just passed 62 hours.”

“Still too long,” Neil laments. “Anyways, my point about Audrey was that she threatened to bring up the subject to you because she got nowhere with me. I wanted you to be prepared.”

“Okay,” Shaun acknowledges, but when he says nothing further, Neil’s left oddly frustrated. (And he doesn’t really know why.)

“Do you want to get married?” he finds himself asking, because it’s something he’s wondered before and never asked.

“To _you_?” Shaun’s voice has taken on an unnaturally high-pitch.

 _What?_ Neil replays his words, shaking his head at own carelessness. “No, Shaun, you don’t have to worry – that wasn’t a proposal. I should have worded it better: could you see yourself getting married? Is that something you might ever want? With _anyone_?”

Shaun doesn’t answer right away, but Neil can hear him moving around in the background, presumably still cooking. He figures his resident is pondering the questions, and he’s proven right when Shaun finally says, “Maybe.”

“Maybe? What are the factors you’re basing it on?”

“It would have to be the right person.”

“Well, I think that goes without saying. For everyone.”

“People get married for many reasons and not all of them have to do with finding the ‘right’ person,” Shaun argues. “Some people don’t care about that. Some people marry for wealth, or protection, or power. Morgan once told me she wants to marry someone of distinction.”

“Of course she did.” And now that Shaun’s brought it up… “What would _your_ reason be?”

There’s a significant pause before Shaun asks, “You really do not know?”

“I could probably guess,” Neil replies, lightly. “But you don’t like guessing, do you?”

“ _Love_ ,” Shaun stresses, sounding rather agitated that he has to say it.

“Love,” Neil echoes, in agreement. “Look at that, Shaun – our reasons are the same.”

The line falls silent again until Shaun points out, “You almost got married shortly after we met.”

Neil slides further down on the bed so he can lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling, but the only thing he sees is Jessica. Their relationship had taken a course neither had expected, and snippets of memories pass fleetingly through his mind, capped off by endless arrangements for a wedding that would never take place.

Then Shaun’s asking, “Do you regret that you did not?”

“No, not at all. I’m glad Jess and I didn’t get married. We weren’t right for each other…not for the long-term.”

“But you loved each other.”

“We did,” he agrees. “We still do. But not the way people should if they’re getting married.”

Shaun hums in some kind of acknowledgement, seeming satisfied with that answer, if the fact that he doesn’t follow up is any indication.

Neil turns his head to look at the phone next to him. They’ve never discussed their views on marriage, but now that he’s heard some of Shaun’s thoughts, he only wants to know more. “So you would get married if you thought you’d found the right person… Do you think there might be any ‘right’ people on the horizon?”

“What do you mean?”

Neil hears the sound of water running and waits until Shaun turns off his sink to explain, “Like…in the distance.”

“As in…” Shaun hesitates. “…geographically?”

He smiles a little. “No, I mean in the figurative distance. We spoke a couple months ago about whether we should keep doing this, remember?”

“At the gala,” Shaun confirms, voice becoming more clipped. “We agreed that we both wanted to and that we would tell each other if we changed our minds.”

“I know,” Neil says, “and that’s related to what I’m saying. I know there isn’t anyone you think of that way right _now_ or you would have told me. All I’m wondering is if you’ve met anyone where you’ve thought…there could potentially be more one day. Perhaps at some point in the future, if you were open to pursuing it. That’s what I mean by someone ‘in the distance’ – or on the horizon, so to speak.”

“On the horizon,” Shaun repeats thoughtfully, before saying, rather firmly, “No.”

Neil’s mostly relieved to hear that, even as he recognizes how conflicted he is about the entire thing. On one hand, if Shaun expressed _any_ desire towards dating or finding a real relationship, Neil would actively encourage him because of how strongly he feels that Shaun deserves that kind of love. On the other hand, a very real part of him would despise everything about it because he knows…well, he knows he’d be left behind.

He blames Audrey for this. _She’d_ been the one who started him down this track again, bringing up the issue of marriage, which had caused him to think of Shaun in a way he knows he shouldn’t. Not when Shaun doesn’t feel anything romantically towards him (or, as his resident had just confirmed, _anyone_ ).

Any feelings he has for Shaun must be kept strictly in the category of friendship. _Always_. He has a deep love and affection for Shaun, but as a _friend_ , and if any small part of him had been wavering, or wondering about the possibility of them ever becoming more, this conversation is reaffirming every reason why it would never happen. Not only that, but Neil knows it’s a terrible idea to contemplate, even in the most idle of ways. It had taken him months to get over Jessica…he can’t begin to imagine the hell he’d have to go through if he fell in love with Shaun and then had to get over _him_. (He doesn’t know if he’d get through it, to be honest. So he can’t do that to himself. He _won’t_.)

“You would tell me,” Shaun begins, sounding rather unsure, “…right?”

Neil’s brain momentarily short-circuits as he struggles to recall if he’d accidentally said any of his thoughts out loud. “Tell you what?”

“If there were anyone…on _your_ horizon.” Shaun’s voice has gotten exponentially quieter and Neil wonders if he’s moved further away from the phone.

Shaun often turns Neil’s own questions around on him, but this is another thing they’d talked about at the gala – at the time, Shaun had explicitly asked if there was anyone Neil wanted to be in a relationship with and he’d reassured him that there wasn’t. So for him to ask again…what if this is something he’s been worried about? Neil’s always been aware that Shaun dating someone would lead to less time with him, so what if Shaun’s had those exact same fears about _him_?

The possibility of a relationship ( _a real one_ ) is something that’s taken Neil a long time to consider again, but lately he’s been thinking about it more – thinking about dating at some point in the future, after he and Shaun are over. He simultaneously loves and hates the idea of it, which is something he hasn’t been able to figure out, for the life of him.

What he _does_ know is that he doesn’t want to be alone. After Jessica, and the toll it had taken on him, he’d thought that he might be okay with being alone. That maybe falling in love and marriage and children wasn’t in the cards for him and that’d be fine, because he still has his friends and family and career. That all would have been enough if it _had_ to be enough. It wasn’t until he and Shaun became closer friends, and then began their arrangement of letting others believe they were together, that Neil remembered how much he’d always thrived when he was _with_ someone. It doesn’t matter that what he and Shaun have isn’t actually romantic – it still fulfills a very real need in him: to have someone that close, who knows him that well, and who’s there for him as much as he’s there for them.

And now? He has no idea how he’ll manage what comes after this is all over. No clue how he’ll return to his own solitary life.

“You would not tell me.” Shaun’s voice, rather subdued, reminds Neil that he’d never answered his question. So now Shaun thinks –

“Of course not.” Wait, that’s the wrong answer. Or rather, he’s worded it the wrong way. “I mean – no. That’s not – what I’m trying to say is of course I would tell you. If there was anything to tell.” He sits up, feeling strangely flustered as he fumbles for his phone on the bed next to him. “Which there isn’t. Anything to tell, that is.”

“There isn’t.” It sounds like Shaun had meant it as a question, though it hadn’t come out as one.

“No. There isn’t.” Starting a romantic relationship with someone? Despite knowing he wants it in an abstract way, the image of it won’t coalesce into anything _real_ in his mind. The thought of opening himself up to a person he hardly knows feels so incredibly wrong that he recoils whenever he thinks about it. He doesn’t want to jump randomly into the dating pool to try and find someone he could spend the rest of his _life_ with. He’d never liked dating in that sense; he’d always preferred letting things happen naturally, becoming friends with someone first and seeing if more developed, as opposed to heading in blind and hoping for the best with a stranger.

Since Shaun hasn’t spoken again, Neil takes a moment to think over the past year, across all the people he’d met in the course of his job and daily life. If it had been any other time in his life (such as a few years earlier, back before Jessica), there were a handful that he might have been open to dating – but the crucial difference is he doesn’t want that with any of them _now_.

He hasn’t felt that flare of recognition in a very long time, the one that lets him know he’s met someone he could have in his life forever – in any capacity, be it close friend or lover or even something beyond that. _Something more._

Unbidden, a rather significant memory comes to the forefront of his mind: the first time he’d met Shaun Murphy. He remembers the younger man, rain-soaked and slightly lost and yet absolutely certain in himself and his assessment of the young boy he’d saved in an airport terminal – the boy whom he’d been determined to save _again_ , despite the fact that no one would listen. The tenacity he’d had, that refusal to give up when every door closed on him, both figuratively and literally – it’s the same drive he carries to this day and one of the things Neil loves most about him.

He’d always felt a spark with Shaun, and it wasn’t that he’d expected them to become romantically involved, or even that he’d seen a future where they were friends – it was that Shaun treated him differently than all his other residents had, up to that point. Shaun didn’t defer to him when he thought Neil was wrong, he _voiced_ his protests. He challenged Neil, his direct superior. And he’d never been afraid of him.

Shaun had always respected him – always _liked_ him – even when Neil didn’t deserve it.

Even when, looking back, Neil didn’t much like himself.

That connection between them that Neil had initially tried to ignore with enforced distance, that he’d tried to drown out with antagonism, had eventually evolved into the friendship they have now. Some part of Neil had known, from their first surgery together when Shaun had challenged him, that there was something between them that he didn’t share with any other resident. He’d known that Shaun Murphy was someone he could get along with exceptionally well – if he let it happen. (And it had taken a serious reevaluation of himself to let it happen.)

Neil’s always admired in others what he sees as some of his own best qualities: the ability to think critically and form independent opinions; the spine to question authority instead of blindly following orders; the strength to never fear anyone, even (and _especially_ ) those in positions of power.

The problem, of course, is that even though he likes those qualities, Neil doesn’t necessarily enjoy having that kind of open defiance directed at _himself_.

Shaun had pointed out Neil’s blatant hypocrisy one day, very early on, and instead of angering him like it would have coming from _anyone else_ , Neil had just stared at him in mild surprise before laughing in acknowledgement. The recognition that Shaun had him figured out so thoroughly despite knowing him for less than a month had settled somewhere in the back of his mind. He’d filed it away as _important_. He hadn’t known why, at the time, but he’d later realized it was one of the reasons they’d become as close as they had. He could never experience this kind of intimate friendship with someone who didn’t understand him. (And no one seems to understand him quite the way Shaun does.)

The clinking of dishes through the phone tells him that Shaun hasn’t disappeared on him. And it reminds him that he _never_ wants Shaun to disappear on him, nor does he want Shaun to have that fear about him, either. ( _Worrying over Shaun worrying_ …he’s truly glad Audrey’s not telepathic because she’d never let him live this down.)

“I hope you don’t think that I’d neglect our friendship if there _was_ someone that I wanted to…start seeing,” Neil tells him. It feels strange saying that out loud, like there’s something wrong with even _mentioning_ the idea while he and Shaun are still ‘together’.

There’s enough of a pause before Shaun answers that Neil thinks he was right about the other man having similar concerns. “Okay,” his resident finally says. “You may do whatever you want.”

“I’m aware of that, Shaun. And so can you.” Neil wishes, more than ever, that he was talking to Shaun in person. (Mostly so he could see him, but also, maybe, so he could reach out and touch him.) He’s not sure if Shaun understands what he’s trying to say – what he feels with renewed urgency that he has to clarify. “I never want us to stop being friends. No matter what. And I hope that we’re always in each other’s lives.” _No, that’s not strong enough._ “I _want_ us to always be in each other’s lives.”

“You do.” Again, it’s not a question.

“Yes.” Neil instills as much conviction into the words as he possibly can. “I do.”

“Always,” Shaun echoes, and Neil pictures the way he’s almost certainly nodding as he says it. “Yes, I want that, too.”

“Okay.” Neil breathes out. “Good.” They’ve been talking long enough that he figures Shaun must be close to done cooking. “I’ll let you go if you want to eat,” he adds, with too much reluctance.

“I can eat and talk to you,” Shaun assures him, and Neil’s mostly just relieved at the excuse to keep talking to him.

“I didn’t ask what you were making because I was trying to determine what it was based on sound alone – is it pasta?”

Neil hears what’s probably a fork tapping on a plate a few times before Shaun curiously asks, “How did you –” He breaks off, and there’s a definite smile in his voice when he answers his own unfinished question: “It’s Thursday. You know I usually eat pasta on Thursdays.”

“Do you?” Neil feigns innocence. “I completely forgot. Face it, I’m just that good, Murphy. In another life I could have been a detective.”

“I would like to hear you tell that to Alex.”

“I have. He laughed and walked away from me. Probably because I intimidate him.”

“Yes,” Shaun agrees, so genially that Neil can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, “that must be it.”

“I hope you enjoy your dinner.” Neil unwraps the muffin he’d stolen from Audrey, having long ago finished the apple. “Mine was fruit. And now a muffin.”

“You should eat better,” Shaun scolds.

“You can cook me dinner when I get home if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Can I,” Shaun says flatly.

“Yes,” Neil strives to sound serious, “that’s how generous I am.”

His phone screen lights up and he swipes it to find a message from Audrey: _Any reason why Murphy just sent me a scathing text to reprimand me for ‘not ensuring you had a nutritious dinner’?_

“Murphy.” Despite his attempt at sternness, he knows he’s failing at it. “Are you really harassing Audrey for not forcing me to eat well?” He types a quick response explaining that it’s entirely her fault he hadn’t had a real dinner (she’d been so distracting that he simply hadn’t thought of it earlier).

“You are clearly not going to do it on your own,” Shaun’s telling him.

They both know Shaun has a valid point – Neil actually eats much healthier _because_ of Shaun and how often they share meals. When left to his own devices, he tends to go for whatever’s most convenient to save time, which usually isn’t the healthiest option. It’s a habit he learned back in med school and has never been able to fully shake (though to be fair, it’s not like he’s _tried_ to shake it, either). “I take vitamins, Shaun. It all evens out.”

“And to think you are a doctor.” Shaun’s voice holds the slightest hint of complaint.

“Yes,” Neil laughs, “to think.”

He expects more disapproval, or perhaps a lecture about taking better care of himself, so he’s surprised when all Shaun says is, “I wish you were here.”

Neil pauses, trying to connect that to their conversation. “To share your much healthier dinner with me?”

“No,” Shaun answers slowly. “I just wish you were here.”

 _Here_. Not back in San Jose. Not even back home. Shaun wants Neil to be there  _with him_.

The admission leaves him staring at his phone, wishing once again that he could see Shaun and not just hear him. He’s pretty adept at reading Shaun’s emotions, but it’s much more difficult when he has nothing visual to go on. He could ask Shaun to switch to a video call, but they’re both eating so it’d be a hassle. Besides, he knows that despite being unhappy, Shaun’s still perfectly fine – even if Neil can’t see that for himself. (So why doesn’t _knowing_ it feel like enough?)

“I wish I was there, too,” Neil admits. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

“Think you’ll make it?”

“I suppose,” Shaun says, somewhat dramatically, and now Neil thinks that his resident’s at least partly teasing him. (Which means he must have forgotten who he was talking to, because no one can turn things around like Neil can.)

“Hey, if everyone’s getting along fine without me,” he mildly suggests, “I was thinking about extending my trip after the conference is over. Maybe take in a few days of sightseeing –”

“No!” Shaun interrupts, before quickly lowering his voice back to a normal level. “No. Just come home.”

“I’m kidding.” Neil taps the edge of his phone, realizing after the fact that it’s the exact thing he would have done _to_ Shaun to reassure him if they were right next to each other. “I’ll see you Sunday, as planned.”

“I will be there,” Shaun promises, referring to the fact that he and Claire had volunteered to pick them up at the airport. “In three days.”

“And I’ll make it up to you that you’ve effectively had Andrews as your direct supervisor for the entire week.”

“You will?” Shaun’s voice brightens considerably. “How?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“ _I_ will think of something,” Shaun counters, and it’s obvious that he’s smiling again.

Neil instantly feels better upon hearing definitive proof that his resident’s okay. “Alright,” he agrees, “that works for me.” (Anything Shaun wants tends to work for him, really.)

Their conversation continues for a while longer, through dinner and beyond, discussing everything and nothing and a lot in between. It’s not until Shaun starts getting ready for bed that he reminds Neil they both have obligations the following day – obligations which won’t be that easy to fulfill if they spend the rest of the night talking.

“60.25 hours,” Shaun says, a final reminder of how long until Neil’s flight gets in.

“60.25 hours,” he affirms, before they bid each other goodnight.

Neil still hates this trip and wishes it were over already, still misses home and Shaun with a fierceness that’s not going to abate until he’s back in California, but he falls asleep a lot happier than he woke up that morning.


End file.
